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Saturday, December 16, 2017

Poem on My Mother


“Love at First Site”


Grease leaves their hands black since malters
carry baskets to fry against checking salters
near a wall’s fresh paint, hamburgers for swirled drinks
at some crowded lobby of dancers even if one fry sinks:
no, I don’t just mean this lonely sombrero for the holidays
or even truly know cats around my town. Being cool in the rays
is appetite for missing cola since I’ve sensed guac
along the yellow brick road toward pictures of Everest rock
and even held analog controllers- you know, devices
with funny buttons and a dream-like occasion for splices,
returning home with the Kardashians trend
in blogs I spot in the morning sunshine with a “friend”
or sampling coffee from Columbian tumbleweeds. Dreams
seem to be a nurse’s promotional schedule up streams
of data for mom, yet, we’re coming along to an emotional
bookmark between ourselves in summer heat, international
as the weather is for American exhibitions with random
history or our casual moments during the bumblebee’s hum.

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-at-first-site-4/

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