POEM OF THE DAY
April 8
Maybe you only pretend
to go, get out at the terminal,
find a quiet corner, practice
your leaving, the guitar,
until even the nylon strings
cut like a jigsaw. A puzzle,
you liking to go
but always finding a place,
any place, to stay.
Maybe you only pretend
to go, get out at the terminal,
find a quiet corner, practice
your leaving, the guitar,
until even the nylon strings
cut like a jigsaw. A puzzle,
you liking to go
but always finding a place,
any place, to stay.