This Poem was Submitted By: Doug Shy On Date: 2002-02-13 12:28:03 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Extrema

In the dream there were these screaming children pointing and shaking their fingers at me. I had nearly run them over and their parents were hissing like fire. There was an explanation and I argued for my innocence but condemned, I drove away. A word of warning should you care to listen: never let carpet-layers into your kitchen. They'll convince you shag is perfect for spills and wouldn't your eggs come out much fluffier for all the luxury your feet will be enjoying and before you know it your kitchen is tapping its toes waiting for a good shampoo. I once peered through the grimy air of my windowless convertible losaaangeles roadster and I rubbed but still they showed me a blind lady leading a man. They both wore canes and smiles and I saw between them circumstances un duplicatable in the big bad city, where we walk with our tongues rolled up and our eyes behind us.

Copyright © February 2002 Doug Shy


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