Dana Ginger Poet Free verse

Swallow your confessions, neither boys nor teachers like running sentences

What if I write you an 8 page sonnet 
And when I see you
We talk about the weather 
The burdens of bureaucracy, and the colors of fall

You love the orange and I love that the piles of leaves are pillows of the living dead that I plow into
And puddles are piles of recycled tears that I cry into 
But I’ll say I love orange 
Because neither boys nor teachers like running sentences

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