Enter Title Here

like a

superstore

I had so many words

baskets and bins

and basements

full of ‘em

full of something—

and I tried so many of them

on you

some suited

–grandly—

some hurt

ill-fitting—

some flattered

skinny jeans, and shoulder pads, pleats and ruffles, too—

and none of them mattered,

because there was always another version to try

to get write…

another shipment coming

but sometimes shipments

pass in the night

darkness swallows Good Ship Lollipop, and Andria’s Dory, alike—

and now the store is bare

stripped and naked—

no sentences left

–no words!

Not even a fleeting greeting

I might have called:

hell-low.

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