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poetry that smells smelly good
I BELIEVE ONLY IN GARLIC
It is mid morning
and some salesmonkey in Mississippi
is ringing my number
ignoring the grave warnings
in my voice greeting
someone on the telly
implores me repeatedly
to ask my doctor about
something
and the shopping aisles
are lined with friendly reminders
to get my flu shot
they're trying to kill me at every turn
so I'm off to do my power walk
and as the plague spreads
across the planet
I believe only in garlic
and apple cider vinegar
and beets
and in the end
perhaps
I believe only in dynamite
and you're still hot and heavy
for a man from your past who was
arrogant and insensitive to your feelings
a quasi musician with no real ambition
(I've read the private thoughts of many
so please don't feel singled out)
and I remember the night she said:
how DARE you invade my mind like that!
sorry...
my ancestors were Vikings
we live in constant dread
like quail scurrying across open spaces
time runs down
till time runs out
and in the end
we're all just looking for something
that's more enduring than we are
Contact Me
a good thing...
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