Thursday, February 19, 2015



Last night
an ex stormed my dream.
He wore a cowboy hat
and his usual sour expression,
bordering on paranoid.
He told me
that we had to write an article.
But friends of ours
kept drifting in and out
of the room,
as well as men
in various phases
of western chic.
The friends assured me
that I could take my time,
while the not-very-wild west
contingent lounged,
thumbs sticking
out of their jeans.
My ex grew more and more annoyed,
the cowboy drifters lurched
from jeans to various cows,
and the friends danced
through various years.

I woke confused,with a headache,
and immensely relieved.

So much for catharsis.

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