As I rewind,
On our pictures, I’m chokin’—
I’m silly-pokin’
Salt into the
Lime.
I ain’t gonna shine;
Mine’s a burnt sun.
Ain’t young,
Though my heart is—
Was when I won ’em.
—
Though ya’know no whiz-
Kid in me,
A crazy bee, maybe—
Still a quiz:
And that’s all,
At my question-mark-core,
—
I might ever be.
But we,
We were wondrously,
Somehow mirror-n-smokely,
Answer-more—
So, hell yes,
I’m years-long-sore;
But, take it on this wince-adore,
I hurt now
Thankfully.
Previous Post:
Poetry: Ballyhoo
https://windstrewn.com/2021/02/13/ballyhoo/
Sent from my iPod
LikeLiked by 1 person