3.25.2008

What if my favorite poets were bad kissers?

Q: How do you make that moment last forever?


Staring at the ceiling after
"goodbye" I blind myself
and only realize it when I look at the clock
to see how tired I'll be tomorrow morning.
Fixing my eyes back on the ceiling
I watch the fan blades spin
and grow disgusted at how the light bulbs
somehow manage to stay still
during the dance.

It seems an unholy act of some sort
that the two components of the fixture
don't move in unison

as they should


and I
am definitely not the lion

this time.

A: You don't. You just keep kissing until she pulls away.

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