Poem of boredom.
Miss cotton candy
your fierce tattoos
and rockability
floor me
Your nimble digits
finger frets
and coax the chords
with dexterity
I only play
the air guitar
and scribble bits
of pitiful poetry
But I could roll
a cigarette
to split between us
when our fingers finish playing
*****
The leaves and trees
In summer’s mien
Stand boastful
Wrapped in verdant greens
That autumn sieves
To reds and golds
Like Spartan shields
That battle culled
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