Half of our penultimate conversation
occurred after we hung up. This upside-down
hum-drum patched-together survival
perplexes. What strand of negativity wound
the initial shock when I was told
I wouldn’t go West this summer but would
instead battle the seniority of twelve coworkers
clustering a holiday to their three-week vacation.
Your romping banter with infants had me stirring
too many Tanqueray pyrotechnic distillations.
|© 2003 Jnana Hodson|
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