Nothing but trouble.
Or sunk just off the coast
Of my life
Of this island
That I live on
Content with two cats, a few visitors
and a hardy survivor from the
other side of this island.
She no longer visits
To take me to bars, dancehalls,
shopping
for jeans that show off my ass, for men.
A message in a bottle.
A swipe at my neighbor.
But to me she's gone.
I guess I shouldn't care.
That blonde pirate, cutting a swathe
With her criticisms.
Tired of the warning flags, the skull and bones.
I can choose my own friends.
But sometimes, they don't choose me.
© 2006 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 976 times
Written on 2006-10-01 at 23:32
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Looking to the Horizon
That ship has sailedOr sunk just off the coast
Of my life
Of this island
That I live on
Content with two cats, a few visitors
and a hardy survivor from the
other side of this island.
She no longer visits
To take me to bars, dancehalls,
shopping
for jeans that show off my ass, for men.
A message in a bottle.
A swipe at my neighbor.
But to me she's gone.
I guess I shouldn't care.
That blonde pirate, cutting a swathe
With her criticisms.
Tired of the warning flags, the skull and bones.
I can choose my own friends.
But sometimes, they don't choose me.
© 2006 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 976 times
Written on 2006-10-01 at 23:32
Tags Friend
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Sandy Hiss |
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Brandon |
