Un-Entitled Requests Poem by Russell Kennerly

one long
parade of rain, a lone sun-dry morning
in the menial part of december, i'd like
your thought of me.
some ridiculous typo i've left
buried in your novel, a hiccup
in your symphony of years.

i'd like
that smolder of a smile
that roll of your eyes
that chuckle that sounds like the underneath of ocean,
the sigh
that resembles the falling flakes outside
a blue window.
your house
may hold a faraway, more wondrous life,
but i know that simple question
still snickers:
why in this world
you fell for that poor, immature clown,
and why,
when the tilting snow marks time in winter,
can the thought of him still make you laugh
perfectly.