there were 6 things left to do,
wash clothes
pack records
there was that time we left the club,
your doc's crushing peoples feet,
your hand pulling me outward and outward
forward mail
into night, and neon
and sex, and summertime
change awnsering machine
and then later,
so slow, all sweet,
we lay drying,
say goodbye
and back then, and even now,
i am remembering
Birth sign: Taurus
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by joel abel.