Tuesday, November 20, 2012

the death of the T-Rex

I do think about it

joining you

wherever you are

I know how awesome it can be
but reality

reality is always the question

you, sir, are a butterfly

or maybe a bird

flitting here

landing there

flying T-Rex does not know where

I would swim over with my butterfly net, ready to stuff you into a houseboat

but then you postcard me from Brooklyn

but by the time I swam there

you'd be in Paris

determined not to be caught

not realizing that I don't want to catch you or cage you

just be with you

but you keep running away anyway

and, by the time I lay expiring on the Mongolian plateau, having missed you by a postcard once again

you'll postcard from wherever you are, accusing me of having never come to you

and my tears will evaporate into the Gobi

the only sea T-Rex can swim

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