Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Eggsoterotica

On the equinox
she stood

on her head
and made sense

The truest friends 

are those
who step on

the brakes
when you are missing

the feet to apply your own 
pressure to the pedal.


This is not a stinking poem.

*Okay, so this sort of is a poem. 
But I need to start using this tag again, 
so we'll let this one apply 
as the first in Second Set's lot of the not-a-poems.

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