Some Friendly Advice

Don’t try to taste what isn’t on your lips; that’s like sliding down
a banister without a lower half.  It’s hard to hold your own dance,
but no one ever really holds anything up when they’re crying.
Not that I’m crying, mind you.  I’m just lapping up what’s been left
in the tub. Anymore, I’m mostly construction paper and animal bits,
courtesy calls, strong lines.  You know, those nights when it seems like
everyone is dozing peacefully except the people you know. You know.
Let me give you some friendly advice, but first let’s stop and ponder
this cold and sun in our eyes, the real and only reason I’m crying,
which I’m not. I am on to you, though, and on to your friends,
who all seem to be privately motioning me towards you,
which is not making me feel comfortable, not in this climate
at least. I’m crouching in winter here, half baked in the light
of my own mystery. Partly toasty and stunned with myself.
The gestures aren’t helping at all, not yours or his or any of theirs.
It’s all just freaking me out. Nothing a nap can’t cure in my off time.
That’s my friendly advice. Thanks for playing. The prices were fabulous.


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