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Tuesday, December 24, 2013

PEACH COBBLER - poem by Kenneth Wolman

You met me in a diner on Route 9
somewhere up the Taconic,
and I bought you coffee and peach cobbler.
I lusted after you at once
and you knew it. Was I that obvious?

You wiped whipped cream from your mouth
and of course I saw it differently,
dismissive gesture, eradication,
nullity, not cruel rejection
but unmistakable, despising my seed.

Nothing would grow, ever--
only my thoughts of you, in a sad diner
near a traffic circle where a cop
came in on break, drank his coffee, ate
his peach cobbler, and then left.

When I drove off it was early morning
and the sunglare was appalling, bouncing
off the hood and wrapping me in darkness
at 8 AM on the Taconic State Parkway,
listening to talk radio and talking to myself.


Kenneth Wolman

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