I know I’m a loner
with a fine bottle cap collection.
And I know you call me honey
and trespass anytime you like.
But when Wednesday walks home
tousled like a young pilgrim
I could do her laundry.
Bake pies just to keep the heavy
scent of pastry in the room.
She has as good to me as an extra sandwich,
a Chilean stamp with fountains
and look, Neruda in the distance.
3 comments:
I've read it thrice, and still don't know what to say. I'll give it a few more tries ... maybe you can help me by telling me what you were thinking.
Today was that Wednesday. I get it now.
sounds like a song
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