By Bill Roundy

It has remained unsaid all day, so long that to bring it up now would be to strangle a sleeping dog.
I say it counts. Anyway, it doesn't matter.
Kick a pillow out of the way, Drop into early morning - I'm just tired.
Too much talk will define, make it breakable. less real please I deny specific
wheel-rub, green sheets, my concert t-shirt on the floor, eggs and soppy toast.
I will not name this
the radio is broken, we have to talk to entertain ourselves: my legerdemain, your job-search, your girl. or
we can think. We do not discuss this - eyes link, pause, pull away like anchors.
Put it away. we're in the car. looking at the map.
Don't tell me what Good. you want. Nothing.

[About the Author]


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