You always were the sentimental
hound dog in the orchard
sniffing around for the ripest
of the peaches in the basket.

The last spin around the block
took five years,
and when the gas ran out,
I breathed fire for you.

And it spread across state lines,
sweeping up the families and
cradles in its way.
Those things are always getting in the way,
you said.

11/08/2011

Posted on 11/08/2011
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