July 13, 2010
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perhaps, too early the dawn broke.
and perhaps, sir, the day turned orange too late.
but did i reckon, my dude, the girl.
she lays, broseph, on the snow, in the red
suit from the fifties
in the red lippie.
a black hair pillow; blue leaks around the edges.
snow white.

on my bike ride, i passed by the lump,
a blue foot, the burgundy toe, i saw.
i lay on top now, holding her.
my coat over her.
there is a hole in it.

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