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flick my gum on the
ground when it loses its
flavor and there isn’t a garbage
can in sight

pretend not to see them
walking hand in hand
down the hall, I feign
interest in the lockers and
stare at the metal instead

tell her she looks
good in that sweater
(really it’s too tight) my
candor is fake but
she wants to hear it anyway

ask you what
time it is
(it’s 1:45)
but I want to hear
you say it because when you
talk the words
drip from your mouth like sweet
molasses and it sounds kind
of nice





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limona said...
Jan. 25, 2010 at 12:04 am
I loved your poem.......your creative, and sweet. I hope to read another of your poems soon.
 
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