Last Call Poem by John Kipling Lewis
Last Call
when coffee comes at last call
the rain still clings to my leg,
like a memory, like i wish a you would
only rarely did you rain on me
never the down pour
never the deaths I wanted
always a step away,
arms away
pushing me further back
the coffee taste like mud
so far from what I wanted
sex with you was never great
6. Almost works. But the images are uneven and spotty, mixed with telliness. Keep the former, cut the latter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 8:14:56 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I almost get this one but not quite and what is the 'like i wish a you would' all about? It makes me want to write a whole new poem around it.