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Month: January 2011

Bourbon Street

You and me
We should be poetry
We should be prose
The way our breathing slows
And our hearts beat
Like wings on Bourbon Street.

You and I
We should be together
Birds of a feather
Flying like time.
We always had rhythm, you know
We just never had rhyme.
We committed a crime together
And should’ve served time
Been brought to justice…
But it was just us
Perfect in our alibi.

We may not’ve had rhyme
But at least we had reason
We committed treason together
And should’ve been tried
We should’ve been been true
Me and you
On the corner of Bourbon Street
And Fifth Avenue.

Read them their writes

My words
Are serving a sentence
For mixing their tenses.

While my pen
Pleads repentance
For its pompous pretenses.

Silly little Bic
Went a tad overboard
When declaring itself
A match for the sword.

My words got the slammer
When, as partners in crime
Ignored rules of grammar
And reasons for rhyme.

But what now of me?
A writer no less!
Without means to express?

I beg them, “Come back!”
I pray them, “Release me!”
But the pen’s bruised blue-black
And words don’t come easy.