crumbled and rolled

sonnet 2 of 6 06/04/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 1:24 pm

as we slowly broach the month of june,
i quaff the pollen drifting on the air.
i won’t walk home alone: a whistled tune,
of how spring will linger on my curly hair

when summer slides lately into place,
accompanies me as i bray and bellow.
inhibition gives way with little haste,
i ask a favor of one offended fellow

who often parrots old words by mistake
stapled to my back when i’m at work.
a public kiss at midnight broke my break,
fifteen minutes more i’d longed to shirk…

so the purple laugh of solitude grows old.
i think i’ll swap the green for more red gold.


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