Saturday, February 8, 2014

8 february

it wouldn't hurt to look, is the thought
bought and sold on sleepless shuttles
back and forth through unrehearsed engagements
stages set for dinner and the wrong guests show
toweled off and showered up: stuffed like a shirt
sitting at a desk and there's no one standing up
wait until the future rings or call your own ride
baby i can drive my car
constellations draw themselves - dots connect on hectic timelines
stuck inside the bylines but we are stories
fade to gray to somewhat less
linen crinkles, clothes undress their buttons
wheels fall off of expense reports
where have all the glossy pieces gone?

there is no separation: real life and the other part
heart around the matter of it
circle, lasso, ride

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