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the passenger seat
OCTOGENARIAN

you are streaming water over steep falls
 1
and I'm the splashes beneath that shoot up in all directions
 2
once, we were both foamy white
 3
clinging to boulders
 4
our bubbles popping at the end of the day
 5
thriving in the easy rythms of the current
 6
 
 
now, when I take your hand
 7
it's open like the invitation of honey
 8
just about to drip from your comb
 9
I never hear the furious hum of your wings
 10
hidden inside the nest
 11
 
 
my every precaution is like only putting my seatbelt on
 12
as you do 90 towards oncoming traffic
 13
sometimes I look out the window and see men with pithy in their eyes
 14
and shovels that attack the ground
 15
in preparation for when we finally rest
 16

12 Jul 12


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(124 more poems by this author)



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