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Vick Mandrake Feb 2018
My teeth chatter with surprising rhythm
One-e-and-a-Two-e-and- A
bright red face
from the scolding wind.
My knees knock,
One and Two And
my feet tap,
One Two
times this week I've sat in the cold
And two times this week
I wished I were inside
Originally Titled; "When We Were All Outside Smoking Cigars and I Thought I Was Freezing to Death, or. Why Must We Sit Outside, or, The Rhythm of the Cold, or, How Are You Guys All Fine Out Here?"
Vick Mandrake Feb 2018
Have you ever gotten lockjaw?
At least, that's what I think it is
when my mouth stretches
to let in a yawn, or out a sigh.
My tongue recedes
for the muscles underneath pull taut.
It hurts to keep open,
and it hurts to try and close.
I cannot speak
yet I cannot seem to keep silent.
But this is only for a moment,
one that I long for,
as silly as that sounds.

It reminds me of talking to you
Any thoughts on the final line? I'm worried it's a bit on the nose but without it I worry the meaning gets lost
Vick Mandrake Feb 2018
My entire body sways
And my feet don't feel solid beneath me
I own no property
Haven't a neighbor I can see
Perhaps I can just
Make friends with the fishes
Or perhaps I will just let them be

My houseboat will have
Everything that I need;
My guitars
My notebooks
Some games
And just me

Because no one's invited
On my houseboat
Unless
They truly believe
My houseboat's
The best
Vick Mandrake Feb 2018
There's no screen in my window
I know, I know
It's a three story drop
I know, I know
Insects can get in
But heights do not scare me
Bugs are pretty cute
And I can have my cigarettes
In the warm glow of the space heater

And in the warm glow of the sun
I can have the best view
Of the same tree
With a different squirrel's nest
In the same crook of the same bough
As it had always been before

I can lean out and hear
Different proclamations
From the same man
At the same school
That I try so hard to forget

I know, I know
The screen will be replaced
I know, I know
The view will still existt
But I will always remember
How my world looks
Without all the small grey boxes
Vick Mandrake Feb 2018
The sun is rising behind me
At least it might be
The rooms getting brighter
But only slightly
Sandal walls shining
No, glowing a cool pale blue
The shades block the view
Of the window Im facing
But a cold cerulean hue
Borders the neutral inch between
Engines roar on the street
And workers are born
There’s footsteps upstairs
And the blue is turning warm
The sun is rising behind me
Although, I really can’t be sure
Because the open window is behind me
And I chose to close my door

— The End —