poet Stefan nnn

Stefan nnn

Late

I was late for my own execution
- the moon called me a buffon
and all the assorted dancing bears
- fixed me with their coldest stares
and demanded that I be sent home

I was late for my own tribulation
- on the road there I wore purple shoes
this drew the attention of style concious ferrets
- they just would not leave me alone

I was late for my own arrival
by the time I finally got there
- I was gone

I was late
yes

I was

Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 11, 2005

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