YOU ONLY TALK ABOUT LIFE (poemoff2)
they slip through,
red or blue like playing cards,
each moment or cigarette
after which you stand, mouth open—
here’s what you lost, three pennies.
here’s what you found, a pinecone.
here’s what you left, a house that was
all windows and doors, every wall
torn down, every shutter taken off
and you wonder, why i stare?
notes: yes, it’s late, but so have tiffany’s, so meh. the title comes from her “raindrop eyes or smooth gray pebbles [?]“
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