Hors de Combat


None of this compares to your 4 o'clock -
Now she has problems.
I've heard she growls like a dog,
Howls when hungry. Feel pity,
Think cleverly, say nothing.
Maybe she'll get there. Maybe
We're all lined up at the edge,
Dropping cliches like greasy plates.
Maybe we play with words
Like awaiting the unexpected,
Shocked by the predictable,
Clearing out the cupboard
And putting it all back in there
Over and over, forever.

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