poetry

a poem I found written on a piece of paper inside a book I haven’t read years

you are obsolete now

there is a new coffee shop
on Hillhurst
it’s austere but
not overly so

you are obsolete now

the shape of my body
belongs to me now
all the eyes
belong to me now
I write invitations liberally
in line at
trader joe’s

you are obsolete now

I love this body tenderly
until the night air turns
wet
with dew and reaches
in my window
and puts me to bed

you are obsolete now

[unfinished…]

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