This Woman I Used to Love
tells me
i can't keep
dragging around
a bag of rocks.
i tell her i
can't acquiesce
to the pudding
faces and
xerox symphony
either
it's just
not in me.
she spans
a five dollar bill
over the mouth
of her
rum and coke.
you won't let
anyone in
that's your problem
she says
disappearing
over my
shoulder.
Perkins, 11:37pm
the women giggle
over ancient banalities
spun by their men:
sad frightened creatures
struggling to master
the addled
fractured roles
this century
has doled us.
Justin Hyde lives in Iowa and works with criminals.
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