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Jul 2017
intro
Despite your wants not launched and the sinister snapshots you carry comparing the world to you come to for and once all that time has for you to come stop the lead sack you’re draggin and simply open up and talk there’s people where you should do stuff so set their face to break free from its bent toward heaven where they drive their big mansion at last forever in all their disappointed passions.

1
A lady let’s say could also be a boy but lets say a lady seen somehow herself through the slats in her own front yard dressed up in the same exact dress as she was currently dressed in well heavens she thought says this must be a sign that something ain’t right with these lengthy polished cherry wood boards that shine beneath the feet of the suede cream couch on which I square my legs each night eyes semi wide in the lamp light alone picturing my dishes and clothes I’ve always must’ve needed since that’s how I became this particular me.

2
Too bad she’s so swept in place by this incarnate impossible since she overlooked the entity transmitting her grace a resting emerald dragonfly poised in full refulgence in the sun of this day making fission with its lacquer off a bit and up to the right obscured by utter clarity just beyond her window pane as she summons all her verve and pushes off unheeding like a crackle from a flame to be dismembered sweetly in the ether in the leaky old boat of fate.

3
Out beyond her porch still unmarried still a bit short she says naïve but with unremitting  certainty hey miss get outta here there can’t be two me’s what ensues next is riveting a chase/battle/conquest/lesson and now when that couch is sat upon the lights are full in both houses and all incumbent opened wide eyes like always there’s supposed to been but this bank chief was late once after little league when his kid needed picked up so when he finally arrives he finds instead a lonely rain damped shadow where he thought his kid should be dust mud caked and ball capped beside him riding home in silence buckled safely in the shotgun seat but thank the lord for this brave woman because now its rectified.
James Cooper
Written by
James Cooper  34/Brooklyn
(34/Brooklyn)   
  474
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