Some sticky caf’ of laminated menus and watercolours hiding chipped paint and you or i or you and i just after the waitress left us— You laughed and that dimmed—a damned lightbulb— but I caught your bottom lip dry, hair pristine, and your eyes immeasurable insoluble & infinite— didn’t mean to all unexpected enough to know you’re not miserable all of the time. March, 2011 |
Friday, November 25
Poem for L.W.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a comment