Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Mostly true

I’m asking myself why
I am looking at the phone as if it will answer

I belong to the bitter –
arms like Hera, making babies and dinner
Pretending the phoenix
is for me

Pretending this is Nebraska
and you are a clothesline

and I am a red tablecloth, pinned
wildly

Ask yourself what it will take –
this risk for risk’s sake

Plain language is harsh
I use the wind and the water

flows around your feet
I don’t know how to stop pretending

Forget the pink summertime –
Pretend the pleasure you felt

was a misunderstanding
Pretend you still like me

when I hold you here
and taste

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