Sunday, August 15, 2010

it's
not over
yet/yes
it is


i may or may not have been here before
but i am sure that this is my last
chance to ever be happy again

you sit on the sink with your long socks
on blowing bubbles into the cabinets
black open graves

i'll take what's behind door number
three thousand and twenty five
for two hundred dollars jack

the lights dim and the air grinds and
leans out of the room as the curtain parts
and everything is fart noise




2 comments:

X said...

All the mountains have been climbed over
All the wine glasses have been emptied
All the sentimental feelings have been abandoned
......

And You,
have already known everything about this world....

Clara Scott said...

Bob-I knew I had seen this poem before. It's a pattern. Creative bliss. It makes sense now. I'm dreaming for you a rose without thorns. I know true love will find you in reality one day. Thanks for sharing your creative mind with all of us. Whoever "gets in" will be one lucky girl!

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