Page 10 - Contrast1999
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5 Days                        Sure, we'll all pay them back
                                     someday- but we can't make it
you can't make me do all the         this week, it's only
pushing                              5 days and
I said don't tell me I've got        Friday comes so harshly
quieties                             when mothers' lovers don't call
inside of me                         to say good-bye
that you can't break                 to hymen in her dictionary
with other silences like
pianos and car singing and other     so I drink them.
children                             with Cherries, you know
that don't know how to go away       all that ginger, and bubbles
like I'm in the wrong coat, today    that never come up
of blood lines                       to him in the mail
dawn break excretions                the post office is only open
that can't pack up                   so long.
and go on vacation
I won't forget my toothbrush         but still, we love them
for you- I don't know how            I guess, like new neighbors
to talk without whispering           that aren't too arousing
dirty declinations that come out     to the womb
of my mouth                          that doesn't get flowers
and lungs that don't function        on Christmas but Ash Wednesday
without you
                                     instead daddies,
and they ask why I'm so good         week-long friends-
with titles and things               breath taking enemies
that make such difference            get happy
in a world that falls asleep         within a year of hair, real grey
when Little Girl gets raped          and five day borrowing

of technicalities and things called  if you don't want it
dreams                               don't put it in your shampoo
                                     that I buy for you at the market
         we cannot fathom.           who forgot the price of babies
but I've got my keys                 and red wine, too.
to open bones
when liquor gets easy                                  A. A. Rupert
and stokes become the way to
inanimate heaven
goose bumps and zeniths of life
are grants between us.
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