Thursday, May 05, 2005


They rise like assassins in the night,
A little fright, body oil and ten-penny perfume
A little bit of Mustard
The dried Tomato Sauce that looks
Less like blood than it should.
You know those pants are somewhere
If only you could find them
Lying there among the little things that
Start to add up.
The library book that’s costing you fifty cents
Per day.
But every day you’d pay fifty cents
Not to have to make that drive until Summer.
Fifty cents
Not to have to write that book until Summer.
Fifty cents
Not to have to do that work until Summer.

You store your pennies in a jar.
You have twenty dollars now,
And the library book has cost you only

Twenty three.


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