History

poetry

The baby’s crying
No
It’s the phone ringing
His neck is rung
The clothes are out to dry
The river runs
A marathon in the desert
With a cherry on top
It’s a spinning carousel
With horses and ponies
But then she grew up
And we’ll find out
I’d rather be in
Hotel or motel
Models?
With bodies
Of water by the bank
There’s a hold up
I’m stuck
I’m only two feet away
There are two feet
Walking to the phone
Four now
I am a cat
The cat?
Who let the cat out?
Eight legs
A spider
Spinning my web
And wait
There is a slumbering giant
Not sleeping
Awake
He is hunting
I am hiding
In the mouse hole
They are fighting a holy war
The mousetrap kills them all
In the kitchen underneath
The sink
The waters running
I am running
I am drowning
I can fly
I’m a fly
Must get out the window
Did you say widow?
She’s watching television
And hears the phone ringing
The phone has my feet
I have no feet
It’s still too far away

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