Cut!

We kissed at midnight, almost like a movie,
Peevish flight attendant hissing, "This is final
Call." I felt her hands slip off of me, as I
Prepared to travel east. She'd cross the hall
To fly out west, and I could see us phoning,
Cooling, finding ever less to say at ever
Greater intervals until we each forgot to
Call, and all the credits rolled.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 20 times
Written on 2011-10-08 at 19:45

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