Getting Right

comments 2
Creative / Poetry

It’s late in a long day.
You know the ones.
A few aches and pains are emerging:
the backing is starting to show through the pile.
Something wants to be slept off,
allowed to lose its way,
permitted to dissolve,
misplaced, or forgotten.
That’s when Hafiz drops by
bubbly as a mountain spring, says,
“Wanna’ go dancing?”

Eyes roll…
“You kidding me?”

“Well,” he says,
“it just seemed
you were starting
to take this
And you know I
hate to see you this way.”

“Look, I’d love to, but…
it’s late…
I did a blahdy-bleep-blaht
today, and-
I’m just beat.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he says.


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