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cody-edwardsPoems
The intimate mountain-- Weekends in a mercury supermarket-- And the nearly vindictive lilt in Your voice when you drop the Last 'T' in restaurant! Perhaps for just a few months We might dispense with the honorifics, Because we each know perfectly Well your finger-ring has a smile For no one but me. The first autumn was always impossible for me (or at least it will be). Winds winding like a clarinet-- A boulangerie cover of Dies Irae. Now where have I misplaced my Sensory glands? Charles Walks an intricately awkward emphasis In ungodly, Strangely comfortable stilettos. The emcee has no frigging Idea what the people want to hear anymore. His serape and his wine-- Not to mention his women, Although I have just now. Poor little frog. It looses owners off its skin Like tadpole-seeds, over A game of backgammon That never really cheats anybody. The abandoned LiveJournal account. The forgotten Myspace passwords. The iPod that hasn't been updated in years. The body slumped on a threadbare sofa. The broken earbuds and busted eardrums. Start spreading the news: I've already left. Go and empty the pews; My mother bereft. And the Chamber of Commerce wants to blame the ****** on me.
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Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 6:25 PM UTC
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The intimate mountain-- Weekends in a mercury supermarket-- And the nearly vindictive lilt in Your voice when you drop the Last 'T' in restaurant! Perhaps for just a few months We might dispense with the honorifics, Because we each know perfectly Well your finger-ring has a smile For no one but me. The first autumn was always impossible for me (or at least it will be). Winds winding like a clarinet-- A boulangerie cover of Dies Irae. Now where have I misplaced my Sensory glands? Charles Walks an intricately awkward emphasis In ungodly, Strangely comfortable stilettos. The emcee has no frigging Idea what the people want to hear anymore. His serape and his wine-- Not to mention his women, Although I have just now. Poor little frog. It looses owners off its skin Like tadpole-seeds, over A game of backgammon That never really cheats anybody. The abandoned LiveJournal account. The forgotten Myspace passwords. The iPod that hasn't been updated in years. The body slumped on a threadbare sofa. The broken earbuds and busted eardrums. Start spreading the news: I've already left. Go and empty the pews; My mother bereft. And the Chamber of Commerce wants to blame the ****** on me.
© Cody Edwards 2010
Written by
cody-edwards
American
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 6:25 PM UTC
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