Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Falling Up Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Saturday 9/16/2006 12:58:00 AM

He told me I was right. I didn't believe it until years later.

The cat's foot finally retracting its claws. All the scratches telling where it had walked.

Maybe I'm old enough now. Maybe I always was. The kindling for the fire tucked away by those stingy corners. Where the stark angles of life try to mingle. As if this weather isn't us. And that tornado wasn't always there.

He admitted I was right about being wrong. And we stopped there. The debate relenting with swollen hooves. How many laps it would take to win.

It didn't seem to matter then. And it doesn't seem to matter now. How old I might be. China eyes counting the shadows we tend to forget.

Stalled chapels in the words we've never said.

All these years knowing him, I still wonder who I'm talking to.

The lamb or the lion.

He was right.

Spare me a moment. Lend me your dominoes. I don't know what I want.

The color of the leaf once its hit the ground.


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