Thursday, April 4, 2013

That Thing Poets Do In April: 3/30

"How are you?"
I steer clear from cynicism
A sarcastic answer will reveal decades of questions
Regret
"What went wrong"s
And, honestly
I believe she asks because she's passing time
Given to her
What kind of cat would I be to turn down an offer to share?

But, if I say, "I'm fine."
She may peer closer
She my rough edges
Conclude I'm a liar
Point at the journey plotted
Course
Push finger against window
Pain
Put finger to tongue
Find me bitter...
...a bit salty
The knick in my Armor
The dent in my posture
"This chip on my shoulder?..."
I assure her
"...it's a birth mark. I swear."

Shit, Damn, Mutha Fucka

Mind you, I still haven't answered her question
"How are you?"

So, I'll tell her
"I'm cool."
Not cold
Heart still beats a nice Burgundy
Beauty is still found in a smile
And frecklesh
And dimples
And simple things
Like being
Cool
Old man playing the blues type
Cool
Wardrobe in sorrow 
Handkerchief drummer
Slightly out of pocket
Complete with the high hat
Sharks to match
Cool

Like pretend kisses when we breeze
The inhale when I squeeze
The "Peace" when we leave
Cool

New
Years
Cool

Night forever
Young type
Cool

New
York
Cool

"Glad to hear..."

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