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Just What if I . . .

Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. 23-years of writing for a newspaper has served him well.


Were to simply sit here in the dry weeds and brush

Not talking, walking, working, or being in a rush?

Just slowly turning my head side-to-side eyes shut

I would not hurt a bandit, a nun, or a happy stray mutt.

What about your living, you ask so precisely?

Not getting up, what about it, I reply, and continue to sit.

It’s the curious-minded, gossip-driven who yak so decisively.

I got up here two weeks ago sitting not hurting one bit.

Ahhh, yeah. Not Spring Break, but look who’s on the beach?

Tanning, fanning, scoring guys’ glances and my prances.

Us blondes always look so pretty just like a Georgia peach.

Just what if I . . .were to stand, kick my legs, and create a dance?

Just what if . . .I lay here from sunrise to sundown, sleeping great?

Not hearing or caring about my two girlfriends in town.

These two know that “I” always look sexy, that’s no debate.

You just walk by my blanket and do not slow down.

Just what if I . . .never see you around?


© 2020 Kenneth Avery

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