01 April 2016

Poetry Mons Begins

Some years

Didn’t want any more surprises
on the couch
with dog
a three-word Moroccan spice

came today it was just a click like
the future’s snapped fingers
like how she does she does some years
like she didn’t want to miss poetry
month either                   party girl

meanwhile today’s code continues
shredding yesterday’s careful knit

someone has to be
be the last to know

decipher one long walk
city swanning until he stepped
on the trick door in the sidewalk
and dropped quick, scraped leg,
rust spot on the corduroys and
clambering up, brushing and

why did you laugh, he said

but I had waited and waited.

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