a poem made of book titles that I can see from where I sit:
the mythic image- land of the ocean mists- writer's dreaming- starting from scratch- writing from the heart- sin in the second city- gone with the wind- kosher sex- i love you let's meet- memories of my melancholy whores- the razor's edge- enemies a love story- where are you going-i have become alive
things that i love:
irreverant uses of grammar- odd shaped stationery- hot gingerbread- drizzle- old maps with dragons in the water- body butter- those upper chest muscles on my husband- the first sip of a hot cup of coffee thick with cream and sugar- tights that don't run- personalized license plates- prisms-butterfly kites- memories of our wedding canoe- my son's tiny voice on the telephone- holding hands to say an impromptu prayer- leaving the gym- checking for mail- having money and being in a bookstore at the same time- letting someone else shampoo my hair- finding the perfect wrapping paper- photo booth photos- waiting rooms that have People- the sound of a diesel- turning the page of the calendar- horseradish- goblets- candelabras- piles of change- starting a new journal- finishing an old book- love poems on bathroom walls
number of men in target this afternoon crowded around the valentine's cards: seven
boys named thomas that i have loved: three
men named stan that i have married: one
days after i met him before i knew i would marry him: thirty
times i've wanted to throw him out the window: 479
times he has let me down: 0
Who was the third Thomas? I remember the police officer that stopped you named Thomas French-- that was a good chuckle from the Universe. But who was #3...
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