Formally over
twelve years of learning to look
good on this one night.
Senior Ball
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Formally over
twelve years of learning to look
good on this one night.
Formally over
twelve years of learning to look
good on this one night.
Deciding who to
take like negotiating
Mideast peace treaty.
In it she was arm
candy, someone that turned heads
unexpectedly.
The play was about
them. His unrequited love
her indifference.
All around it, the
town is dead. Pity the poor
taken investors.
A romantic name
for a seagull poop splashed walk
among spray and rocks.
One piece would last for
hours and have few calories.
(I’m working on it.)
When I stay up late
my thoughts move oddly like lab
mice stunted by drugs.
Night winds roar like a
giant parent screaming “Go
to sleep!” without words.
Slanting through speckled
panes, turning cobwebs into
faerie gossamer.