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Description of a Poem

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I saw a poem floating by
Snagged by the wind from some lonely writer
And pushed along with the leaves
On an express ride to nowhere particular.

When I caught it and held it
I felt its thin paper body and crinkled edges
And felt the wet ink, still so fresh
Smear on my fingertips.

I read it aloud to see what it sounded like
And thought it a very loose sound
Like the wind whistling past
Or someone singing in the shower.

As I held it up, I smelled it too
A scent of wood and ink
And the musky scent of cologne
From the poem’s writer, separated forever.

I could taste the cologne if I went too close
A bitter, chemical aftertaste
Like the school locker room or someone
Who smacks of too much perfume.

I let the poem go
Since it really wasn’t mine to keep,
But I still remember it
And here it is.

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