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Front, Porch, Swing. (Free verse) by horus8

Every evening she smokes cigarettes on her front porch Riding that swing All of her gestures pause She's not waiting for that special someone's home lighting torch If the swing could speak it would say, "because", Because, my friend Time blindfolded the farm animals The bonfire out front is hot enough now To melt the toy metal trucks Intense enough now to burn the swing, and the house with shed The only things left Would be the tiny flowered weeds The aphids for the ladybugs Her eyes show this knowledge She was the child i loved more than myself That spit at the circus Peed behind the ferris wheel Shin kicked the ring master and gave all of the clowns a raise Lost within the house of mirrors No razor No bottle of depressants Liar Only cotton candy I loved you, distempered Mouth melting and sugar soaked, anger Don't cut you Never trust a stranger I need you Or, a mustached man Father Or, a girdled woman Mother Or, the freckled children Siblings Because they don't follow you around like i do I'm sorry that i came too late to pump you're guts I guess i'm gutless Fertilizer for your milkweed One day too You Out there Will sit quiet Chain-smoking On somebody else's front, porch, swing dragging your feet to simply slow down.

<~> 14-Aug-02/10:38 PM
--oh, the poem--i don't get the transition from description to conflict. i see there's inherent unrest, but i think that you have become more adept at the weave and wake since 6/99. thanks for the explanation of the scenario. broken dreams clutter the curbside; unworn wishes piled in the attic like so many christmas sweaters are more haunting than the ghosts of the past. future perfect never was. tense. as for the beer, sierra nevdada started the evening. down to coors light and a very old scotch ale, which it's about 80 degrees too hot too drink tonight, but i mat have to bite the bullit, and take one for the team. still no muse. damned if i haven't drained every can and bottle looking for her, though. as far as the pros and cons of arguing, yep, i know. i was married for 5 years, and we came to a fork in the road. thanks a lot, robert frost. we both took a 50% best travelled road. no arguing about the path at all, just, see ya. salty indeed. beer foam salt. what kinda red red you nosing tonight?




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