Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Guessing the Aperture Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Monday 7/24/2006 12:16:00 AM

They drove in circles. Small ones. Only two parking spaces wide. Pausing by the cart return before setting off again to orbit the poorly painted rectangles where during the day giant suv's nap. While their owners read books for free at the barnes and noble coffee bar. Starbucks indeed. Gasoline for people.

It kept driving in its circles as a girl nearby began to laugh. And the wolf pack of teenagers with nowhere else to go tormented the people trying to sneak into the Applebee's. Until the squad car scared them off.

There are always children in the supermarket no matter how late I go there. There's always ice cream on sale in the summer and that doesn't make any sense to me. Shouldn't it be on sale in the winter when no one wants it.

I think I liked the idea of driving in circles. Passersby wondering why. I think I liked the poetry in going so far to go nowhere. I wonder if they noticed how accurate they were.

It just wouldn't be summer if something strange wasn't going on. It wouldn't be a picture at all if we weren't ready with our camera.

I see you there looking at me from the other side of the lens.

And you're not wrong.

With rounded thumbs we press buttons that suddenly appear.

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