Monday, April 27, 2009

End-of-Winter Mind

Everyone's thoughts are for sale these days
The birds are changing their pent-up ways
Umbrellas have holes and our donuts have none-
It's been two months since I saw the sun.

The magazine laid with his face to the sky
And with nought but a glance caught my curious eye
His surface was temperate, smooth and so cool
Like the soft gray depth of an oceanside pool.

She says she works in magazines
But I don't trust the ones she reads
Or anything she says she means...
especially the lovely things.

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