Four turns and how to head them
It means, and then, it happens, so long.
my work phone is fine but my iPhone
is nowhere to be found.
Springsteen plays “Sandy” (natch)
& I’m wondering why your pet possum
picked Pat White over everything else.
Pellets left like petals.
Let’s get real: I want to stand again
in Thursday’s rain,
furnish the hit
with a new refrain.
The promise of oranges
Stuff small talk overhead.
A promoted destination’s perfect day.
We’re all going the same way,
even when flying
in opposite directions.
Through the portals:
no clouds only another 737
on its morning commute.
This dance looks all grace.
But no one was calm.
It was futile to wave.