Monday, June 29, 2020


Converging Lines


Smoke boils up

From the street shimmer,

Your house,

I think I can make it out,

I could’ve danced across

On the roofs of cars, but now,

Only a few antennae protrude

From the steaming muck.

Your house collapses,

Burns; now it’s gone.

You know,

We could’ve really

Been something together,

With your aplomb,

And my brilliance,

I almost asked you out once,

But your expression gave me pause.

The moment was gone.

Oh well, I almost regret

Pushing the red button

On that mysterious machine

In the secret room in the attic,

Skull and crossbones

Taped to its side.

It was left

By my crazy inventor uncle;

He was nearly as brilliant as I,

But vanished one hot summer day,

Testing his giant magnifier hat.

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