glass quiet turned tone resin
applaud the contours
a drama was here
but give thought the layer
or finger the width
of there to stay
you made it true
in your stare at the painting
the painting, that's yours—
so why look?
(looking for looked for
in the here and now
is past possible)
accent the audience
(cluster cough rides chatter pedal)
I'm a little worried about:
mired in sequence
becase all the things you are
we climbed there already
to seek solace no
or welled up inside
can one say overwhelmed
better than too much?
or beat a waterfall retreat
we hear century a little late
and say what I think
the standard should be.
We were young and our happiness dazzled us with its strength. But there was
also a terrible betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard song at a
French restaurant. [...]
I could not tell the girl about the woman of the tollway, of her milk
white BMW and her Jordache smile. There had been a fight. I had punched her
boyfriend, who fought the mechanical bulls. Everyone told him, "You ride the
bull, senor. You do not fight it." But he was lean and tough like a bad
rib-eye and he fought the bull. And then he fought me. And when we finished
there were no winners, just men doing what men must do. [...]
"Stop the car," the girl said.
There was a look of terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the
woman of the tollway. I knew not how. I started to speak, but she raised an
arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget.
"I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle," she said, "the tollway
belle's for thee."
The next morning our youth was a memory, and our happiness was a lie.
Life is like a bad margarita with good tequila, I thought as I poured whiskey
onto my granola and faced a new day.
-- Peter Applebome, International Imitation Hemingway Competition
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