This is where I am .
The same Hot Pocket taste
in my, now, familiar mouth
Humming A/C air blows my hair
Same old ways with new days ahead.
A time like this passes
as fast as your eyes follow a wandering fly
trapped in the back room.
Alone with someone
is and will always be a riddle.
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1 comment:
YOU WRITE POETRY IN THE CAR?
scandalous
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