My First Last
We leaned our seats back.
Exhausted from my futile attempt at balance at the Iceoplex.
Steam clung on to the windows.
Dangling in the ignition.
She talked of packing her things. The
Long trip to college in Montana.
I just listened.
Vibrant, Sky colored eyes, Igniting
Coals long thought burnt out.
Our distance became
Lips syncopated in heated rhythm
We leaned back in our seats.
Exhausted from futile attempts at nothing of importance
Have to go”
I knew what she meant.
I am not going to lie, I am pretty proud of this poem. And if I am being honest, I have no idea how I was able to write like that. If only I could harness that creativity and expressive prose at will, maybe I could actually finish editing my novel. My typical writing usually reads like … well, this.
I found this poem on an old flash drive I found when moving. My wife and I decided to move in with her father to save some money during this crazy fucking pandemic. It was rough not being able to bribe my friends with pizza and beer and calling in favors in the hopes that they will help us move. We had to do it all ourselves. To be honest though, we crushed it. My wife is a fucking trooper. We nailed it in two days.
Anyway, I hope everyone is staying safe and that this ridiculous year will turn around soon. Good Luck and thanks for reading.
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