November 30, 2012

Seven, Nineteen and Forty-Two


I tried to fold something that doesn't exist.
I bended and twisted and came up with this
really big pain in my butt and my head
and a hole in my center I need to dye red.
I counted to three by twelves and by nines.
I scoured the pine trees looking for signs
that nobody left me, that nobody sent,
that nobody cared if I twisted and bent
into shapes that would suit a faceless time,
but all I found was this odd little rhyme


and Elvis.

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