...
the morning wore a fez
& everyone ate flapjack
perhaps the stars agree
& so the starlings crow
the robins didn't peck
the archbishop's fat balls
beginning when its spinning
upon this cosmic egg
a ripple in your journal
& colonel mustard's gas
the gaps between each simile
a sea of silver darlings
a varnished table leg
a cappuccino sheen
the ghost of old november
her bugles & bassoons
remember this & glisten
the river in your ear
a disappearing here
the horn on each gazelle
electric jellied eels
she'll never text you back
the evening burped too soon
a dirge in perfect purple
…
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