shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Johanna M. Geiger

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over coffee

I think about drinking a big glass of milk
how threadbare my socks have become at the heels
and if I were being graded as if this were a foreign language I'd probably receive failing marks

Is it this or the other thing
Again gone wondering with tiny pains in my pinkies
with my hair forming a crisp curl along my forehead

shoebox of handwritten memories that stopped somewhere along the digital lines
Where are all those love letters you wrote to me Where are all
the cryptic exclamations the heart squirting offerings the lusty pages

water pounding on the shower floor now
Pipes moaning in the walls a veiled threat to drown us where we reside
down to the grounds another filter failure sinking to the bottom