The pockmarked mirror, Mrs. Highnose
And the empty bed, still stretching his back,
Trying to get all the lumps out
Are barking at each other again like two dogs
In different yards.
Get all those secrets in, all those
Little milkbone scraps you’ve buried
In your mind, now is the time
For retrieval, you’ve only got a minute.
I can hear them from the other room,
Baying and beckoning, falling in love
In their twenty-second dialogue
Which seems to them to be their entire lives.
I don’t much care for all the drama,
All the posturing, but I guess it’s all they know,
All they’ve had time to learn how to be.
Still damn annoying though.
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