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James Grinwis: SPOKELAND

March 8, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

A barn in a dark field surrounded by a few girls.
 
A sheaf of old love notes
inside a Hyundai pries itself open, oops.
 
It can go like that, or it can remain, get bored, naked.
 
A mad nude.
 
After the marathon there is beer week, and then there
is hurt week, beyond that a lost dog
digging a burrow under the old shed to escape the
 
sneeze ghosts and wolves.
 
To go on like this is sort of like intruding, like eves-dropping
in a crowded place, someone crying,
a nosebleed.
 
It has happened to a friend of mine
but a woman in sexy hot pants
has never come over to me and said
‘I want you to date me’.
 
It used to be it was always snowing but not anymore,
it may hardly be snowing at all.

Filed Under: Issue 101, Poetry, Poetry 101 Tagged With: James Grinwis

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