Roadside Oleander

No longer prone to the wind.

Unswayed by the breeze -

          the gust that blew everywhere

          in all directions

          just to be felt,

          just to buckle some knees.

Mistakes walked hand in hand;

lovers, shamefully unaware of each other -

          Means married to Ends:

          however pragmatic,

          the one-way streets

          would eventually vanish.

So I meandered, over the mobile puddle

of my tears,

into a roadside bed of oleander

and laid face-down -

          indulged, once more

          in a pretty poison.

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