Tuesday, April 30, 2013

4355. I LOVE TO READ THE ENDINGS

I LOVE TO READ
THE ENDINGS
(what was it the bride wore?)
Mystery matchbox, penny arcade.
The lithesome young lady is wearing brocade;
I almost made her once, back when forbidden
pleasures was a perfume. I think. I forget. So
much is overdue, and so little brings satisfaction.
There are one hundred people a day I could
think about if I chose to, but I don't. I just
keep moving on and this wagon train won't
stop for nothing but water holes, feed bags,
and the occasional oasis made of  -  when
we do finally get there  -  nothing at all.
-
I was walking through the woods, nearly
in the middle of nowhere. A tiny path, it
seemed, tried leading somewhere. I went.
I followed the push/pull of all those fair
intentions. When I got where I was going,
where this path had led me to, I was
amazed. Piles of used tissues, not yet
soggy with weather and rain. Piles of
used tissues, and condom wrappers
galore. (What was it the bride wore?).

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