2/28/2015

There is a sweetly tinged contrast between
the yellow of a primaverial agrimonia and a dead winter bramble,
the tingle of cola the burn of coffee
wild wide scope of memory, waiting
A wholesome night... For once!
Entirely sweet and just
the juxtapositions seem to interlock at the parts of the line; this line:
"I don't want to go," rawly stated in
a vulnerable trap, always with the sweet sun of confrontation
scheming through the panes.
So perfectly set: like an animal caught in a groundhog  cage
"I don't want to go to school" and
"I don't want to go to the marines,"
sweetly tinged contrast of  ingrate talk with hopeful interlocking at this:
Both said with an exasperated acrid breath that makes me think of the mirror stare phenomenon.