Tuesday, April 15, 2014

UNTITLED (FOR THE GRAY POMPADOUR)


She thinks you and I will meet again
That you have simply been sent on some war mission or another
To the Crimean Peninsula to lose a hand
Or Estonia I hope to lose an eye

I think you and I will meet again

I will be visiting her in Berlin
And while walking the ring of a fountain
Will trip on my platform sandals
You will be walking by of course
You will grasp at me with your phantom hand
But I will slip through head first into the water
And when I come up with a mouth full of pennies
I will close one eye to greet you 

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