Some flowers on the table in a jar,
a few have dropped their petals,
A few more brave it on.
Your dress arches, falls across a chair-back,
My socks, your underwear are left unreconciled,
confetti scattered pre-parade.
Crumpled bills, some pennies and a quarter from
an out-turned pocket make a still-life
where they spilled.
From the hallway where a lamp is on
a strand of light that does not punctuate but only
stretches to a wall.
A radio was playing but the frequency has
more...Some flowers on the table in a jar,
a few have dropped their petals,
A few more brave it on.
Your dress arches, falls across a chair-back,
My socks, your underwear are left unreconciled,
confetti scattered pre-parade.
Crumpled bills, some pennies and a quarter from
an out-turned pocket make a still-life
where they spilled.
From the hallway where a lamp is on
a strand of light that does not punctuate but only
stretches to a wall.
A radio was playing but the frequency has
faded. Cough of static. Words and music fade.
Drift. Are back again.
Lightning shudders at the window. A hollow
belch of thunder as an afterthought. Away.
Away. First drops fall.
I believe you love me,
but what if it rains?
apres vous by Rod Mckuen
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