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Saturday, April 21, 2018

Forgotten Poem #2

 Why What a Truly Beautiful Monkey You Have There

I’ve got a vast rural Catholic country’s worth
of sincerity in my mouth and you’re all invited. 
No one knows how long ago missionaries disguised 
as mercenaries disguised as daisy-decked burros 
smuggled some over the mountains, tucked inside
their wet pink gums. Some still recall the dark days 
before—even fondly: you can turn the stereo high—
no, higher—if broken glass paves all speech—straight 
answers aren’t the end all after all. But when one 
dusty beast passed its stash off to me in a French kiss—
ta da: your baby makes me feel like a loser. See how
easy? I hate talking on the phone but I want to love 
you more.  Etc. Like Portuguese—a tongue slow 
to reach cold ears. Meanwhile my fruity fields lay 
wide open to blows and the crows who cackle 
like jackals at any –ly ending word.

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