Paper and PensA Poem by JRHer feet once so light upon the stair she never wore slippers, didn’t believe in them so her flattening white arches would run gentle across the decaying fibers I would make eggs the way she liked and she would sip coffee she never drank until I came along, softly discuss the government while I dribbled salt from my fingers; Paint her nails a lavender shade, her only makeup watch the way her fingers would straighten to hold the paint while she talked of deals corruption and past revolutions while I would smoke and look out the windows into all the green of the woods; We’d walk in the hills, her new painted fingers wrapped in my own and breathe the clean of that aspen air, she’d kiss me and speak how to keep air clean, who to pay off, who needed to go, bills that needed to pass while I would trace the clouds patterns in the sky; And me later with my paper and pens and big ideas and well-read and poem-writing and interested in civil rights and history and too proud of myself and my understanding of economies-of-scale and the complex nature of democratic socialism vs Trotskyism vs Marxism vs American-ism and college-educated and too proud, too proud and well aware of how the world ends (no bang but a whimper) I sat with my coffee and my whiskey and my ears open but not listening to a goddamn thing she said to me; She is a much better person than I will ever be. © 2020 JRFeatured Review
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1 Review Added on April 22, 2020 Last Updated on April 22, 2020 AuthorJRPlacerville, CAAboutWriting again Interesting times to be living in, kind of a cool time to be a writer and documenting the world. more..Writing
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