Under Shapes

i have let go the balloon

so all of montana

can see,

red adventurous not dismal

and shallow,

beyond flatness

and interjection of mountain

spike,

i remember the waitress

she with black flat shoes

that squeak,

luscious hips that waved

not so discretely,

in these moments

pulling collar tighter

with the encroaching cold,

that seemed to affect the

mind,

so that all i could do

in conversation or

thought is waffle

 

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