Dispatches from a Breakfast Joint # 117
- Jesse
- May 3, 2025
- 1 min read
small brown bird
sings top 40 hits
through plate glass
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See Alla poem is A climax; Spent bewildered, returned grasp for that same fire to find only cooling ash
amidst sun rumbling thunder resonance
the dishwasher sits at the bar phone chimes, finger scrolls Over-hydrated skin wrinkled A white VW pulls up, top down, ZZ top beard...
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