Maydays

Pinch,
punch,
taking a walk.

Trash in the creek,
an old foot-massager,
and trees that release
cotton snow
you run away from.

A young man sits on a stump
near the bike trail
with some luggage,
beneath a tree
to hide from pregnant clouds.

The rain makes
footsteps slippery
and outside
everything in sight
is wet to the touch.

Downtown is packed with
Mexican revelers,
celebrating the passing of
the swine flu scare
or a holiday or I don’t know what.

I wrap my arm around
your side and chest as you sleep
and think about
the passage of time
and then you draw me close.

May days make
springtime slip
into summer
and outside
everything in sight is
wet to the touch.

Pinch,
punch.

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About allisunknown

26 year-old student, tutor, and writer. Write for http://www.spectrumculture.com. Also nascent pedestrian advocate. Twitter handles: twitter.com/joeclinkenbeard twitter.com/PedInPDX
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6 Responses to Maydays

  1. Alli says:

    That’s so mean to talk about me running away from the flying cotton!!

  2. Alli says:

    P.S. I really like the idea of pregnant clouds. They pop out little baby clouds and they are so cute you can pinch their fluffy little cheeks!!

  3. allisunknown says:

    Pinch, punch, sock you in the face.

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