by Christopher Rose
Seagull
Angelic break-dancer,
you would trade your wings for some food.
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Bathroom Stall Jazz
What trumpet could cry
like the creak of a hinge?
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Crushed Budweiser Can
A leaf twists in the wind.
I leave you where you are.
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Tomato Soup
Midnight panacea—
I cannot remember drinking you.
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Willem de Kooning
You apply your lipstick
directly to the bone.
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The Mars Volta
We stood on top of a mountain of sand,
waiting for the rain.