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Click herelately off dreaming
right up front
having a spell
of contemplation
on the tilt-a-whirl
holding hot
smiling at cold
stepping with the
sheep shearer
chatting with dead people
silent auctions
mute balloons
wind in hair
blind rage
with a sweet twist
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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I feel an urge to explain this one.
It was made while I sat and tried to think of a poem to write. Scratchings in the dust waiting for the Pepsi truck to pull up.
?hey Vic, glad you could make it? as he raised the truck side like it was some garage door or New York store on Crime St.
?needs a little grease? Vic said,
?where?s my Coke??
?Pepsi. That?s all you?ll ever get from me, fucker?
?fuck you too, see ya next time?
"okay"
dust
in this poem, but I've been on the tilt-a-whirl myself a few times, and I know how it is. That last bit of imagery is wonderful--like looking at a quartet of photographs. :)
I don't always have to understand your poetry to enjoy it. The words themselves are a pleasure.