Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Boys, Lost

I miss how you just
swing by unannnounced.
I leave the window open
for convenience, knowing full well
there are no more invitations.
the last party ended in a fiery trumpet
of streamers, red in their rage
violent in their violence.
and everyone went home.
your cologne,
what was its name now...?
I haven't opened my window
when it knocks these days
for you cannot fly through, Peter
and my Wendy House made of karma cards
have scattered to the wind
to a brand new Fool.

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