PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I gave the city justice

by claiming self-pity

And the laughs came from the corner table

sitting in a foggy haze

in a hand-me-down London.

And I wondered

between the age of miracles

occurring outside the veil (it was cold)

what we had to offer.

On our checker printed faces

us

in a stapled breakdown

involved in each others murder

we talked about

the south of you,

and how it was like a bandit

in waiting

a young bride stolen

and camping out in the bushes.

And in this lowness of living

we did a moondance around each other.

took bets on our falls

became single islands

shook and gathered in the spring

accepted our outskirted nuances

and found our own lit romances.



It can feel real nice.

This short drive.