Her indifferent warmth in my lap,
Idles on shuffle.
Joe tells me:
He is his father’s son
—his shadow weights a ton.
Pale gray tents the sky.
Rains are coming;
aching knee.
Birds know when to fly,
so why don’t I?
Angry squeals of punk guitar
echo from a past
that never was.
She stretches out a claw—
gentle taloned paw.
2023.09.05 – 2023.12.03
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