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Well, so Much for That


by Darryl Price


"Earth is the loneliest planet of all."--Morrissey

The most annoying thing is that clothing 
commercials have replaced any real communication. 
Look around. We're being 
bought and sold day and night, night and day. You 

won't have to remember me because you 
don't know me. You only know how you felt 
once when I was swimming around you. We 
are starlight in a zoo. Absence is a 

rusty presence, too, like a bamboo airplane, 
but I doubt you'll believe it. Nobody 
believes in much and because the universe 
responds to how we use our minds, 

many fine things become extinct that should 
have stayed within our hearts forever. I've 
learned how not to care, but I'm not going 
to work for your seashell company. Figure 

it out. I've written you many caterpillar 
letters, I've sent pods of sunshine 
dolphins to your front door. You've got to 
spread your umbrella wings or spend your life 

crawling through wet grass. You're the one interpreting 
poems like sermons on the mount. 
I'm just painting skies from the windy cliffs 
as I feel them. You don't believe me. Love's 

not an insufferable elevator 
crime in my reservoir. No stench of 
extinct skies here. All clouds welcome. Rain friendly, 
but, you know, take care. Do your art. Do 

what we can. Your clothes were stolen. Get over 
it. Stolen hearts hurt more. Miserable's 
a serious enough crime I thought I'd 
never commit, but you bring it out in 

me. I don't want to stay in your smiling 
face. I think I understand. You just can't 
say words so plain. I've carried desire this 
far. I accept no substitute for hope's

raw landscape. Let me in. Let me in. Let  
me in. No, forget it. I am the ghost. 
You are the flesh. It's back in the forest
for me. I close this poem like a door.   
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