Poetry · Writing

Blanketed Diner

Embellish in the retelling, you’ve heard it

all before in your nightmares. Seasoning

the story with white lies and full lies to

bring the love story blooming out in

false flavor. Damn that’s delicious.

Kiss the chef for me. Kiss em twice and

run for the hills, silently relieved to

feel the sun on your skin for the first time

in relived memory.

Can’t blame you. The sun was covered,

hidden in the moon or in photos. How can

you sell something you’ve never seen before?


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