Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Poetry one

This I offer you
microwave popcorn
half-finished toothpaste in our bathroom
a banged up old coffee pot boiling
some dirty dishes in the sink
a song we love drifting through the walls
books on the table for breakfast
we'll stay up too late
regret it tommorow
for now there's jammies
on our close-clinging bodies
it's cold in here
but the covers are warm
the coffee's good
the popcorn's burnt
hope, normalicy, a life that
makes your soul weep for joy
life, love
not the bad hollywood type
but true

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