Friday, December 21, 2012

polis

who knew? that you, she said,
can get sick
 /w me to kill
too
the rainy sat.s
i watch run by in puddle drips
till things get dry--
or sick to die.
tonight, besides,
in shallow waters and lights--
i'll have flashbacks in front of these
weekday dreams, from when we
hit-the-bars-in-style like
quick flips through shiny magazines.





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