come to my room
i have some grapes
they are wine in adolescence
red and green
blood and innocence
in this tiny fingered orb
hold it to the light
see the veins and freckles?
i split it
with my precise teeth
it says "kitsch"
but we know it lies
i place the other half
between the promise of your lips
you bite
i'll kiss the sweetness dripping
from your chin
come to my room
i have some life
I always had that problem of looking out the window. I was kicked out of Algebra II in the 10th
grade for it. A few decades later, my cube has a view of a pine that gets irritated at the lightest
of breezes. There are passionate sunsets in the winter. And a constant flux of cars overtop of 90% of
the asphalt in the valley. They pay me to look out this window now. Never underestimate how far your
weaknesses will take you. Sometimes I look out other windows. I call that poetry.
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