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Cold Turkey
maybe i was your friend
once
now i’m a small longing
orbiting you
slowly in white and gray
as you sit on the porch steps
smoking
stub out your cigarette
in a saucer
the wire mesh door bangs
shut on its spring
as you return to your boredom
dishes, floor
the pile of days, chores
performed over
you’re thinking of me
i know
i can feel it, c’mon
give me a wink, a lift
of your hand
dammit
i’m bored, up here
all day
hidden behind books
old newspapers
c’mon
let me out of this glass
prison, just once
i hate you
© Johnmichael Simon
2010
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