A Little Short of Legendary
This is not the way these stories play out
In the ancient legends. You are no one's
High-born queen, and I'm not gallant
Or a knight. We are not trysting in
A castle or an abbey's sleeping room.
We meet, the separated spouse
Of one who I still call a friend,
And an unhealthy engineer, to fornicate
Beside the highway in a shabby motel
Room. We dress, we kiss when we
Are finished. Then, we are not borne
Away by snorting steed or gilded
Carriage, but more mundane transportation
To our sad suburban homes, not blessed
Or cursed, just pleased enough to plan
To meet again.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2025-02-03 at 21:13
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