No thorns, limbs sashay longly, cheetah
walk toward
no prey, footloose, her dark blond hair
streaming, no intrusion. (Beer) 'Could I've
one? ' No
harm. 'Lotsa' people hang
out here.' No blame. (Smoke)
'Peace, ' she said,
in Chrystal clear Downeast, an aroma eluding words, &
a smile that lights a soggy
joint. 'Peace, '
she says, again,
long as she looks past the sniffing. '...I
don't think I've ever
voted... [T]here's a pebble in my shoe...' (and those
feet!) , nature jealously scraping along
her only
tan-less feature, limnable as last year's hangups.
She turns twenty-nine today,
loved me watch her walk away.
Chris (Not Cretan or whatever other enigma you've chosen) - This weaving of text and subtext, is amazing and your release was perfect. If you had willed it, she would have looked back! Best wishes - Cheryl
Oh, what a brilliant ending. Yeh, it's good to be watched. :) t x
I enjoyed reading this poem. It's complex, witty, says alot. Hope you enjoy work.
I really enjoyed this Chris and I love the way you've laid it out, making every single word count, and each sentence take on different meaning depending on how you read it. Top notch old chap (I have no idea why I just said that) Hugs Anna xxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'll drink to her and her second cousin.