MR says, "OK, so Verbie overdere sayeth that his song of the day for January 13th was Emmylou Harris and Daniel Lanois singin' 'May This Be Love' - so lemme jes'put my top-n-bottom eyelids togetter here an lessee, an'
Shadows knit together such unruly scratches, they are the prickles of
dried twigs, hurriedly enlaced to form snares, a badly-made cage
to catch unwary fickle dreams unawares.
At a table nearby, unknown woman
ReplyDeletescratches poetry in a tattered notebook
between lengthy sips of hot Earl Grey
heavy on the bergamot
"Emmylou is fine," she says,
But nothing speaks to my
heart like Patsy, though
my dreams are made of Stevie,
or maybe, even better,
Rickie Lee."
Noting the emptiness
of the space between, she
brings a tiny orange from
her bag, and peeling it slowly
she whispers to no one
"No...no...I
am understood best
by Leonard."
FANTASTIC! Welcome to the Cafe! The coffee is on the house, in honour of your wonderful poem . . . (PS, Patsy is the most bittersweet but no one aches like Rickie Lee!)
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