poetry critical

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the passenger seat

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

12 Jul 12

(define the words in this poem)
(124 more poems by this author)

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