Don Munro Poet I do not know?

Disappeared

No note,
the bed unmade,
the milk, imprisoned in plastic,
left to grow solid on the kitchen table.
Winter’s gray made me insane, and
so I flew on steel wings to Buenos Aires,
where the air is humid and smells of unwashed
sins, and the angry sun beats down 
on oceans of grass,
and the red wine flows, 
numbing my Yankee brain.

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Poet Destroyer A July 9, 2014 at 12:25 AM Don, Congratulation, on having your poem featured on the soup's home page. Always & Forever ~LINDA~

Gail Debole November 18, 2012 at 4:16 AM Good one! Brief and to the point - but says much. - Gail

Anne-Lise Andresen March 9, 2012 at 5:37 PM Well done, I like this poem Don.Thank you. - oxox love Anne-Lise Don Munro March 10, 2012 at 9:20 AM you're too sweet; thank you, Anne Lise!

Leo Larry Amadore March 9, 2012 at 4:51 PM Excellent work...an entire sad tale in eleven short but effective lines...lines with a cargo of underlying causes deftly suggested. Don Munro March 10, 2012 at 9:19 AM Thank you for reading my poem & commenting. Oi, the issues in this one. Yes.