Sunday, December 15, 2013

What was the title of the poem I was supposed to write for Marianne?

If you put a tree in the middle of the room
and then decorate it with shiny objects, no one
will think you're berserk. The roundness of the
pies all have an affable glow; some are golden brown,
and another, a fruit pie, oozes deep purple. I would
like nothing more than to take a walk on a slushy sidewalk
with some good looking people. Then, perhaps a bottle
of something warm and sweet. This is Todd from Brooklyn
writing to you from a certain place amid the stacks
of objects. We're all in for it; I'll follow you there,
but if you get there first, follow me.

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