in the gloaming (my poet speaks to me)

Because you cherish the expectation of meaning, you think you need me.

In fact, you’re better off if we meet only once or twice a year, maybe in the back of an empty tavern at gloaming — it’s best if you talk, mostly, and I listen, nod, admire the beer, recommend the apricot cobbler in a very serious voice.

Later, you can toss and turn and wonder what I meant.

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Creative Commons License
In the Gloaming (my poet speaks to me) by Joel Short is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

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