Poem a Day/ April 11, 2012 – Alex Pruteanu

IN FIFTY SEVEN WORDS/ ALEX PRUTEANU

the heat burned my eyes dry
while reading pomes
on a commuter train
banking slowly over Philly.
have i made you insane yet
with my bifurcations?
the conductor passes me a note;
a cable like in the old days:
“the fridge froze my salad;
i want wine.”
and man is a bird
made of mud.
stop.

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