Amusing Musings on the Muse

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I felt so like a grown up

Eating sushi, talking art, falling in love,

Slowly slyly bumping into one another

On a small southern city street

Knowing poetry will come from it.

 

What to write?

How to write?

When to write?

Does it matter

Knowing poetry will come from it?

 

The red okra and zucchini,

The bell peppers and squash

Are beyond harvesting

But the carpenter bees don’t mind

Knowing poetry will come from it.

 

And all my jabbering distracted you

From making that Indian recipe

Like you wanted to with more tomatoes

To keep it from drying out which it did without them

Knowing poetry will come from it.

 

We’re crazy, sad with life.

It goes on and on like house after house in a gentrified mill town;

How it can begin and end beginning and ending like the unexpected us

We were waiting for all the while

Knowing, just knowing, poetry will come from it.

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