Published on 03 July 2012
I decided that
now was the
time
to write
that
poem.
But
the tea
needed
to be brewed.
my bladder
wouldn’t empty itself.
the sunset
was drooping.
And it was
then
that I found
my little poem,
about the way
the hills looked,
like Japan,
detailed,
and full of
their own
molded earth,
my
little
poem,
was…
of what was I
thinking
again?
and why is my
tea
cold?
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