4.24.2008

Fall back, Spring ahead.

Laying here with this one
oooooooh!
something fever
watching the ceiling fan spin
its futile heart out
as the neighborhood weed-whackers
don't seem to stop
except to refuel, reload
and
it all culminates
into so jagged an edge:

A million coal shovels
when all ya need is a spade
but the antibiotics haven't kicked in yet.

What I really mean to say--
ask, rather--
is
Would you lose a finger for me?
And if so, which one?

I don't think I could
get her off--
beat her off me, rather--
if I tried with all my two-twenty
not that I'd ever want to.

If this isn't It
then it's something similar
maybe better.
Now I know what my mother meant
when she said she wished she could
suffer that pain on my behalf.

Maybe it's just the weather.
I'd like to think it's not.

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