angie
as if it were summer
I don't wear a coat
I turn the radio up loud
(the car's defroster
melts my ice cream)
i keep a typewriter in the attic
it doesn't work
no replacement ribbons
keys are missing and it keeps the lid
(firmly in place) on my books
temper this day
with salt with spice
add an open window
stir
this possibility
is an open field
a white screen
at its edge
(deer)
today's mown grass is a velvet throne
sunlight in trees a chandelier
in his theory of starlight
the nimble finger of time
never touches space
never budges the light years
reflected in her eyes
is this the storm of the century
the wind and the hail
or is it just a siren call
that strands this ship
on your rocky shore
Iet's get a leather couch
so we won't have to buy one again
for twenty-five years
or at least until the cows
complain
this is precise
this pillar of salt
I abandon the pretense
I measure your gradual destruction
savored with my distraction
it was an old shirt
when i pulled the string
the pink unfurled
leaving nothing
and I wasn't surprised
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