Concord
We sat down as poets
Arbitrarily pushing buttons
To spark, NO, to Ignite the fire
in our bellies to spew from one mouth.
The words of which i lost
Riding on the train
while knowing the brakes were out,
a skid, a stop, NO, a Slam
into Reason.
Not a poet, mere mencer of words
A derelict in duct-taped shoes
Just us two on the back stoop
Discussing the Cellar Door.
Copyright © Peter Calvanese Jr. | Year Posted 2009
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