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Doug Potter
Poems
Sep 2016
Conversation at diner
We sit three stools away and can not talk
bold enough to understand
one another.
She moves to the seat next to me and asks
if my bacon is crisp. I say more
or lessβwant a bite?
There is a tattoo of a cross on her forehead.
My cousin Beryl done that to me when
I was 12, horsinβ around, he was 19
and no good.
She goes to *** or powder her tattoo; I pay
my bill and walk outside under a sky
so blue I want to cry.
Written by
Doug Potter
Iowa
(Iowa)
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