Amazing Somewhat Subtle Not So Grand

a bushel full of poppy seeds
to keep a dream swinging happily
a baby grows one hundred feet
over the course of ages none through three
and all in all we lay around
in dewey grass or brick laid towns
and think of how we should really do something about
the fact that we’re doing very little about it now

the blue peaks through the spiderwebs
caused by the shadows of woven limbs
that tree all over my view
i lay around and think of previous “i love you”s
the little girls, the cruel women
the in-betweens and those that kept coming back again
with talks of pregnancy or how “i’ll kill myself if you leave me”

which makes me special, i suppose
positions arch, our backs grow
curvy right down to the marrow
and we’re all left hunched over ours desks
old and ugly, flab and flem
our better halfs no longer worth the sex
for which you first fell in love with them
but metric years worth of meaningful glares
and memories of widening hips and falling hairs
we swing in chairs on country front porches
a future of satellite borders and hydrogen horses
the past is now the present then
old and ugly, happy men.

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