Friday, March 23, 2012

THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS


My feet framed an area the fog looked
On accusingly. Plankton weren't all
They could be. Druids were natural
Sex-havers when checking facts
With the lights off, but the plagiarist
Was on vacation, bored and surfing.

Misery captured elegantly
The turgid day's surrender.
Filing cabinets and beleaguered
Television sets presented themselves
In every enclosed patio. With every new
Gyration we encountered a sieved
Remonstrance. Aches in us were throwbacks
To smoothing medicinally down
Our dreams: they smiled on the resulting
Lather worked into our heady remains.

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