as if I’ve never been to the Taco Bellon the beach at 9amwith a hooded man seated across from meat a dirty table,waiting for our number to be called—as if I’ve never seen the sandy deck andits walk-up window and wishedfor more ode and less elegy in my life,or written both with nothing but hotContinue reading “Don’t Tell Me to Write More Love Poems”

Don’t Tell Me to Write More Love Poems — #TBQ

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