Poetry, Maybe. #4



Polite up until the

noose couldn’t be shrugged off

manners aren’t necessary

in the frying pan

the girl would walk along the fence

while he was teaching her about

poetry and music and butterflies

It seemed so wonderful.

Her: asking rhetorical questions

Him: pouring his attention into her pitcher

until there is a

prick of her porcelain

the linen suffers their sin

the frying pan ends him

the noose ends her

And so they

walk along the fence

Without memories

Of the frying pan or noose

“Just a small town girl – living in a lonely world.” Concert tickets are practically essential. Musicals are the key to life. I like movies, music,books, and corny jokes.

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