August 2003! A spree, and the W.A.P
another month of you and possibly me
W.A.P stands for wild animal park, if you don't remember-
the way you forgot to count the months till November.
When we shared a bed, in the blistering heat--
You ignored those new blisters all over my feet-
barking, tired from walking alone.
Choking, dehydrated, yet chilled to the bone-
my car overheating no insurance, registration
now I have to wait for the train at your station.
See, here...
there is a sea here
it's here every year
dear, it catches every tear
it drifts too far and little too near
it's sullen, and blue,
and it whispers "I do-"
and
"Hey, whatdya say...
Could ya Stay, Stay, Stay?
maybe we could make it for a day."
Maybe we could make it.
I guess in the mean time we'll just have to fake it.
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Tickle your toes. . .
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Poets United Contributor
As always, your descriptions place me in the middle of every scene. The energetic rhyming scheme in this poem accentuates every emotion. Love it!
ReplyDeleteThanks Judith! :)
ReplyDeleteYes, I feel tossed into a story, like a sloop on the sea wondering how it will all end~
ReplyDelete