Isn't this today like
any other?
Predictably impaired with
restless hands
idled by
restless thoughts
as you shoot in and out
out and in
like once before
and once again
we make amends
and allege that
we are the best of friends,
(so long as
we never talk again)
Mike Brande 1/8/08
1 comment:
Good poem. Nice to start a poem with a question... don't think I've done that before. :)
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