Same Old Song
I’ve heard a few lovebirds singing the same
sweet song to each other amongst the
white and pink blossoms of spring.
“I love you so much I want to put you in my pocket”
they sing to one another. Their song sounds
shrill to me.
I can only imagine folding my sweet love up
like so many notes passed in grade school
classrooms, and tucking her away
in my pocket to live alongside crumbs
and lint and cigarettes and toothpicks.
Shouldn’t she go somewhere better than my pocket?
If I loved her I’d at least let her live under hat or in
my bookbag where there’s much more
room and far less itchy crumbs and sharpened sticks.
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