#1
october 9,
autumn something,
up at the hem of dawn,
sylvia, blissful young fawn
draping blankets over a
cheek and jaw, rosy; not;
or pale and clawed from
kitten claws. make tea in
pot-check-honey and
milk-check-eggs sunny
side up like how we
made love between
dusk and
dawn-

the school is a bit of a
walk with oxfords on,
sylvia drags along struggling with
her slip, mumbling about the
underwear she doesn't have
on-we are not too old for this,
i say, as we share
cigarettes-

i wonder if the moon is self-aware-
if the ivory billed wood pecker
still exists in a tree somewhere-
if so, come out already, christ, it's
been years and we just want to
take pictures of your
face-

sylvia moved to the apartment down the
street, a better view, a single room, an
ice cube tray someone left by mistake-
i told her i had nothing to say, but asked
if i could
stay-

a mountain is made of smaller mountains,
that's what i told my nephew when he
asked what mountains were made of-
smaller mountains are made of smaller
mountains, is what i told him when he
asked what the smaller mountains were
made of-on and on this went for an
hour or so-
he seemed satisfied-

life is about finding ways to waste time,
i think, or, life is about finding ways to
waste life,
there we go-

sylvia licks an envelope and then a
postage stamp and then gets up to
put it in her mailbox,
i follow her out into the
day with a beard and
glasses on my
face.
Last edited by rushmore at Oct 6, 2011,
#2
i like the narrative from start to finish with sylvia. imagery, thoughts an actions is great as well. looks good
#3
life is about finding ways to waste time,
i think, or, life is about finding ways to
waste life


Is this original? If so, one of the best lines I've heard...