Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Door in a Face

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Woke to the smoke of burned cauliflower,
neglected because of a lizard-disposal project.
Dear little lizard.
I would so love to catch it myself and keep it
for a pet.
Then there was music. Wonderful roses.
I would offer you a warm embrace. To make you feel my
love. And there was some
silly chatter on Facebook about a poem
ending. I’d
walked out in the raw November to get
balsamic vinegar, and was standing at the light at
Selby and Snelling.
Looked at the cars and buildings and the overcast
sky. That’s all.