Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Raining Volvos

Moving magnificently she coos
some moon above us as Venus
cries, some aerodrome, these doves
pass a few crows, leaving
grossly an excuse to only show
the poem that is her mind.
She there chanting Om
as outside the frozen glow
of Ohio spreads drear calm knowing
that she is a monopoly full grown
and as impossible as raining Volvos.

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