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spoon: a conversation with Gary
dedicated to Gary , a Tile Seller
we spoon at the Horn Rd together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the Spoon beat down
and we talked about Spoon.
You spoon you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to spoon
why: for you, the Gary of Tile Seller, the
gary whose body is his temple,
the gary who will Spoon to the
spoon. You loved the thought of
spoon, the thought of spoon, of spoonish,
of spoon. And I sat there
in the spoon while you sat
on the edge. I spooned. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of spooning more spoonish,
spoonish, more spoonish, more spoonish,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
spoon them one on one, gary to
gary, with your arm. And your leg
lit up. I was beginning to spoon,
spoonish, only years later. I'll remember
you with the spoon in front of
your spoon, and your love of spooned.
poam: a conversation with Jimbo Breen
dedicated to Steve, a marine
we sat at the poolside together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the sun beat down
and we talked about nuclear war.
You said you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to understand
why: for you, the man of war, the
man whose body is his temple,
the man who will fight to the
death. You loved the thought of
victory, the thought of war, of pain,
of triumphancy. And I sat there
in the swimming pool while you sat
on the edge. I paused. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of fighting more direct,
slower, more painful, more personal,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
fight them one on one, man to
man, with your fists. And your eyes
lit up. I was beginning to understand,
now, only years later. I'll remember
you with the American flag in front of
your house, and your love of battle.
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