The Other Option

He was asked to write
A love poem,
His former words of
Scorched barns and
Frogless ponds
Carried too much doubt,
Their darkness weighing in
On lives used to
Commuter drives,
Passing lanes,
Parking ramps,
Slammed car doors,
Disgruntled bosses,
Hurried lunches,
Clocks that moved
To the rhythm
Of a tired old violin.

An apparition arrives
Right before closing time,
Of a young woman,
Shy, with uneven teeth,
Small breasts,
A scientist’s hands,
Walking across the hill,
The seduction of innocence
And a school uniform
That spoke to him
Of poems, earnest questions,
Beach blankets and novels
Of women torn
Between men who wrote sonnets
And men with ample bank accounts.

 

 

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