John Floats Freely from Umbellical Cord

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June 19, 2012 by mpe77

She’s past the point of contagion,
Sugar sweet and abrasive.
What was it worth, the body—perfectly pleasing;
H. Erectus.
What thought is worth in calculation…
Small, he was, in meaning; yet meaning what?
It self is small.
Well within circumference.
It all passes, wanes in phases.
He thinks of charm
As well wrought syllables,
Should be so much,
Should bridge strong concrete, stilt the distance…
But he undermines intelligence;
Big words fall far out of context.
He thinks she doesn’t notice.
She’s indifferent; numbed nerve sensation.
Because she listened.
Ever attentive,
She caught his mistake cast arrogant
And stomached it.
Fought hard the upsurge impulse
To drag him into the undertow
To fell him
She did
Win.

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