Monday, September 08, 2008



I thought I had a favorite song until
eyes half shut and vodka in flight
a lifetime of longing beckoned me
from the neck up, to the stage.

I turned to see you as oblivious to
my terror as a deer in the branches
pulls leaves before hearing fear.
As though no one’s life was over –

You went on, chorus and verse.
And a piano tried to add a little
something to the perfection of
my demise, my neck-down defeat.

Forgetting you is not the problem.
I have since learned that I must.
But tell me, Camille, how will I
ever remember anything else?

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

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