tweny-fifth march ~~~~~   Leave a comment

Page Eight


she gives me pancakes on a paper plate
these pancakes, this plate wear a shower cap
in light ice-blue, the thin elastic holding
safe my pancake-gifts, this plate.
no one has  given food in shower caps before.
she endears herself with novelty.


she is so unsolid, amorphous and loose,
a proteus on a crowded, middle-class road of ersatz amerikan dreams.
turn, and she’s a dragon. turn again, a child coquette.
lies spill out one minute, and postures reign.
a minute more, there’s sweetness, maybe real, or not.
she is ice and fire and always for herself,
yet gives (but why?)
these pancakes, and more; yet loves not,
not me or any other, with depth or strength of vow,
of heart.


I long this long time to call her friend,
and long to scream at her the wrong of her.
I wish to trust and believe,
but folly, and danger,
to trust proteus.
why can’t she stop changing?
why can’t she change?



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Posted March 28, 2011 by mishibone, braon, braonthree, sehnen in poetry

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