Except the Memory of You

Sometimes I feel like

some sad old goddamn song

that everyone knows the words to

but just won’t sing along

        --Charlie Chesterman, "Mister Blue"

Laughing girl

tugs her beater over her belly

overshares

earns a stage shout-out

is easily amused

seemingly cheerful

like baby’s breath

in a carnation bouquet

She is rain on Sunday

bag of kittens in the river

calliope

last call banjo

at Nico’s Recovery Room

stumbling down Highland Ave

three flights up

to an empty bed

Flash 55 for Real Toads!