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Kettles and stinging nettles

Well, the pot called the kettle black
but the kettle called the pot back
for a second date.

Charles

I walked inside... and all I could hear was classical music
all i could see was hazy and spotted
from the outside sun
from the daytime slumber that is two-o-clock

nobody listens to classical music anymore.
nobody.
really.
nobody.
we are so far away from it's prime
the genre itself has been so narrowed

just as classic rock can be narrowed down to five artists
classical music can be described by one
i am not sure which one, but i don't care
i don't listen to classical music anyway.

she was there,
laying

i was here (as i always am)
halfway blind (not always)

***

There is this thing about women
When they are laying down, halfway to all the way naked...
they are more attractive
this applies even more-so when you are halfway blind

****

outside the window
I see light and dark
I see trees
and rain
and wind

i feel birds, cowering in branches
i smell grass, drinking
i see the moon, restlessly spinning in the sky

and i see Charles, the springer spaniel, sleeping in his oversized pillow

What is was

you had the greatest voice,
i had the highest fever.
you were a red haired beauty
with a knack for drinking
i was thinking
as i always do

it wasn't me, it wasn't you
and it wasn't the cold cold windy city
it wasn't the fall or the rain
or the gutters
or the cars

it wasn't the lake
or the highway
or the bridges crossing over
and it couldn't be the animals in their cages
and it couldn't be the people in their places
because it wasn't
holding hands
it wasn't three second love
it wasn't white teeth and kisses
it wasn't golden hands and wrists swinging
or necklaces
swinging
don't tell me
it was the sky
or the night
or the clear breeze blowing

it was caught up in the moment
caught all up in the moment and knowing,
knowing
it wouldn't work