empty talk

February 22, 2007

Black tea. Sugarless,
rank like medicine. How we hate
to heal. I long for the calm

white flowers
that the Chinese praise
like fragrant gods. A salve
to cleave the blur before the moment.

London is the same. I buy
cigarettes, not tobacco, at the train station,
and curl into the maelstrom
as if I lit the glow

and am its owner.
Empty talk –

maybe I will walk tonight
till I meet myself coming home.


3 Responses to “empty talk”

  1. Quennie said

    Interesting. This reminds me of someone I used to know very well.

  2. Well, that’s kinda interesting too then. Thanks Quennie.

  3. Quennie said

    No problem. I like your poems. They make me think. 

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