The Black & White Poet

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Chicago came and gone
Not once, but maybe two or three times
And we traded lipsticks and instagrams
dreaming of party boats and what it was like
To be on the worldly side
No ‘goody-two-shoes’ jokes were
too hard to swallow
…Any jee-zee remarks or virgin pina coladas…
But then again, wasn’t it our
Peace? Our joy? Our ordained future
that caused us to laugh so hard
that no noise came out-
and to cry so hard
that our folly consisted of gossip and
free margaritas....
Twenty-six minus twenty-one equals five
Five
Five things I can list that I love:
zealous spirit for righteousness
inner and outer beauty (though the equivalent matter not)
a quick and forgotten type of forgiveness
a happiness, nevertheless joy, once inexperienced
and, at last, an equal desire for our destiny.
-this makes five.
you will never be,
just a memory
of moccasins.


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Nothing but a Memory of Moccasins