EIGHT WAYS OF LOOKING AT LONELY
[one]
A wisp of white against an eternal blue.
[two]
A tiny town
in Alaska.
[three]
Along twenty occupied bar stools,
the only moving thing
was the hum of the Blues.
[four]
Maybe cuts on the wrists,
or a cup of cyanide,
or a fork in the toaster,
or fumes filling the car,
or pills in the hand,
or a bullet in the chamber,
or a rope dangling from a ceiling,
but definitely the dive from a bridge to the river.
[five]
An empty set of parentheses.
[six]
Always an invitation, never an RSVP.
[seven]
In a mirror while everyone else is sleeping.
[eight]
As seed of the unplucked peach.
[three]
Along twenty occupied bar stools,
the only moving thing
was the hum of the Blues.
[four]
Maybe cuts on the wrists,
or a cup of cyanide,
or a fork in the toaster,
or fumes filling the car,
or pills in the hand,
or a bullet in the chamber,
or a rope dangling from a ceiling,
but definitely the dive from a bridge to the river.
[five]
An empty set of parentheses.
[six]
Always an invitation, never an RSVP.
[seven]
In a mirror while everyone else is sleeping.
[eight]
As seed of the unplucked peach.
1 comment:
Uh Huh, I can see me reading parts of this. I hope you thought someone else would read the line about falling off a bridge.
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