Categories
poetry

Our Two Year Conversation in One Paragraph by Monika Zobel

Do everything you would do. Gone crazy in a fortune cookie. Every platitude held a poem. I wrote what cannot be read. Oh you missed it, time. Whole nights. Still need yesterday and forgot where it aches. May keep it real. You may be raining all day. Most of the sights were silent…I sang for your birthday. I’ll never sing again in a stripped hotel room. Want gets what it wants half dead. Left with your sad future experiments. Call me beast shaped or stapled to the beast. Where are you? The cave. The view from the window looks like an episode of love arrested you. It will have to do. Are you by yourself? I devoured your sorry. I couldn’t make your ego leave in the middle of a sentence. Maybe we can meet on the corner. It is a liability. Just like me made of many moons, the eclipse. Did you stare for an hour when people exchanged money for sense? I saw you strike me twice in a forecast. No longer headed your way. Your hurricane died on the Atlantic. The blind took these images and pointed out a lack of passion. Come wear your American style…I wish you we’re here, all of your crystal nights. You back in January. It’s a bad shot, to stop here. The border left intact. What should I do? The next person you see to reach me. A drive around town at home where I feel the voices you feel that way. Where voices grab this town. I’ll pay you back. When time is right share every night. German verbs never worked on the train. Too long for one station. A peripheral nerve still wants you with contrast. Have you all lit up in the doctor’s office. I have trouble getting hit by a car. Your profile a spirit up and down the street. I only blame you’re American. Diagnosed with wondering, sense of burdening.

By gulfstreamlitmag

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