The Last Word

Nov 24 2014

I miss the playful swings you took at me,

the single-worded sneers that jabbed and hooked,

the meaning of which only one could see

or two, if I kept count while no one looked

of the ways I loved your mind, begrudging,

divided by the distance ‘tween our hips,

accounted for the planets’ tidal nudging,

searched for the root, (attending to your lips,)

then I began to understand the joke.

Prodigious, and prodigal, and young,

a wiser man would smile and eat the yolk.

He’d slice it out and give the cat his tongue.

Your elders’ reprimands were all in jest.

You’d choose one word–to hell with all the rest!


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