by yossarian hunter

i tidied up
a bit
for Ur arrival.
(i still remember
that U like to
break things off
i had to have something
semi-clean to wear
so i left the dishes
for later,
ran a broom
across part of
the floor.
i rinsed a (thin)
layer of film
from my own
crown of thorns.
half of the
glass bottle metropolis
has been removed
from the table,
the other half stands tall,
so that struggle may sing.
       [twelve bar blues
               in the key of
       locked out]
i’d fix the hole
through the roof
but fear i’d find U,
my own little
on a nest
beneath a shingle.
i am a house
(falling down.)
U are
a snapshot(,
the ghost of an illusion.)

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