after midnight almost anything is possible
awaiting a man we haven't seen.
standing still, time rushes by us.
a beer too big to drink.
you're finishing your poems with periods
watching her get excited by menus
it is summer shall we barbecue?
order me a guiness if she comes.
she travels on trains going nowhere
anticipation of being on your doorstep
-kitty and joyce (moral support provided by joe), @ croxley's ale house, farmingdale, ny
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I just realized, am I really the only one who writes periods at the ends of the poems?
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