a text message teaches me

about the measure of a man

early morning blues

breathes its turn – at times in absolute disdain

i warm up to my bedsheet

painting pictures about the woman

i met, who was once a girl

eating corn on the cob, besides the junk van…

my hero waits to sing a song for me

in the tech-toiled bytes of ipod-yssey

again and again

stuck inside of mobile with the memphis blues again

saves the day for me; leave the pain

mothers and mangoes

keeps me in conversation

a day all colored yellow – without a plan!

and i look forward to confessions

to a woman

of unknown proportions

for analysis of the hand

~ by rb on May 10, 2009.

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