When? Poem by Taylor Jones

When?



'So when? '
She cried,
'will we get married? '
Next fall he replied.
Next Fall?
I may not be alive!
She spied
with squinty eyes
and nice breasts
leaving the rest
up to chance.
'What about the dance? '
and the shoes and dress
and band and tux
and friends? '
That's fine

he said

we'll have time

I'm sure

for all of that.

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