3.28.2012

Spring Poem: When the Geese Return

A goose is a brute
on foot, hungry and violent
and stupid--they stumble
about like little zombies

they hunger for breeeeeeaaaaaaad

Spring obscures us
dying ice cores;

if you stripped me in Winter
for testing
you'd find a miserable huffing
combination of despair and desire
hammered under into a
cold wide anger


I am a different person in warm weather
kinder, eyes wider
slightly thinner
more shallow, more content

I ache less, yearn less
I will take phone calls
I will maintain eye contact
I will smile at your dog
in short, I am less myself
or more, depending

on your opinion
of geese

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