Nut and Bolt

and Flaming Lips to boot

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1 min read

heart on my sleeve
frayed French cuffs
links to a self-imposed
curfew that you
knew
needed more
than time
or the right find
for reasons
still
hung out to
dry
starch
fold
box
closet
and be forgotten
to be remembered
off the cuff
thread bare,
a rusted stem
between us

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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