You,
made up of tricks and tangles,
created
to open and close doors.
You,
the eddies of waters swirling.
You,
the rock slide demanding attention,
willing
to crush and maim.
You
are a symphony of strings,
the
sour note accordions play.
Winter,
summer, spring, you are
the
darkness night brings.
You,
fox paws gliding silently on the prowl,
the
wheezing of an asthmatic child.
You,
the distant rumble of thunder
tumbling
through stormy skies,
the
flat tire rolling out of round,
an
irksome sound scraping chalkboards
in
a classroom of idiots.
You
are the sadist, silliest situation
which
invades my privacy when it
is
silence I need to maintain a sense
of
sanity. Go away, leave me be.
Give
me a break from all your tomfoolery.
Leave your number taped
to
my door. I’ll call you in the morning
after
I’ve had my coffee.
Chris
Hanch 12-11-19
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