Thursday, September 22, 2011

simplifying.


I can taste the tortilla chips clinging
to your shirt through my nose
as if such a vest of armor could hold up
broken with pureed tomatoes.
Sure Grandma would agree love
tastes like salsa.
make everything a cave
Chop peppers in it
  glow.
ten years from today i will either
wake up next to you
wake up next to not you
not wake up.

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