It strums at something in me that
riffed bridge and growl.
Tonight on the tongue: stringed things
and bubblegum. I fell in love at
39 with it the pink or because
of it, bubblegum.
At 40 I can say this:
my sharpened shoulders feel like home.
He looks for me in the window
more often than not he says
like last Tuesday
and sucks his Skittles clean.
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