Monday, March 12, 2012

I thought my heart was in Patoka Lake

But when I hold my breath under every overpass 
or bridge 
or tunnel 
anywhere a wish might be hiding 
like a cavity that has not yet begun to ache 

My mind's eye returns to
the air fresheners and the candles,
the florescent lights blinking, 
the way I laughed at my own un-made mind,


how easy it would be to get used to
that particular brand of exasperation in a man’s eyes. 

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