Birds

Christina Strigas

These poems flow like a waterfall

I can see it clearly down the whitewashed hall

high school is not truly over

all my life I’ve been searching for that one four-leaf clover.

A and A and B and B

I could rhyme in my sleep and still see

how words are on my skin

paper thick and love thin.

I wish I did not dive into the water

jump and then falter

over deep issues in humanity

crying over the gorillas’s need to be free.

I want to sit in coffeeshops alone

ignore the pinging of my phone.

You should have been with a poet

but he does not wish to know it

all he sees are pretty mouths to kiss

sexy bodies to miss

after one encounter

nothing makes sense but to mount her.

Naked dressing, half-eyes open

get out of your zone and stop moping

listen to the…

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