Monday, February 14, 2011

You Are Free, Thank You, It Was Fun

I took a little walk
and came back to an email
telling me I'd been sainted. What part of
when you throw the paddle at me
the game is over
don't you understand?
Lifting up the medicine to reveal
a stain near where you keep all the notes
I gave you in a box taped shut.
Boxes like this are all over the city
locked away and tightly sealed.
This is the Slope, I am feeling
the gravity of freezing my ass
off at every corner I see you.
I won't be here to see you though to me.
If this were New York it would be a place
I've never been to. Rummage through the parts
of my story that pertain to you. A mint green leather
glove on the sidewalk reminds me of you.
What you dropped or what you left behind
before stillness invaded my block with complexity.
Cars stop, people stand and stare:
you are free, thank you, it was fun.


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