I Think of You

Untitled, No. 9

I hope while

you’re in Spain

enjoying

the local women

and cuisine

you choke

 

 

on

a harmless piece

of fruit

 

a bit of pineapple

(that was always your favorite)

 

not to the point

of death

but long enough

to get dizzy,

to get a bit closer

to God;

 

long enough

for you to see

me

 

only me

 

smiling

as this life starts

to play in your mind’s

eye

 

and when Valentine,

the server,

administers

the Heimlich

may you bruise

like

just dropped

peaches

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