Vanity, You Pretty Thing

In a f e w days, i’ll be reading a statement
directly on camera, silver gun pin
impaling shirt to tie, fixing me here,
staring into red hum light – a stop sign
i’ll ignore while my needle skates across
Hunky Dory

look out the window and what do i see?

In a f e w days, i’ll be a vintage typewriter
in the library of Lewis & Clark, ribbon twisted,
f key mashed down from one too many
f words – a problem best addressed with a
pry bar while my needle skates across
After Hours

i’d rather be all by myself

In a f e w days, i’ll be a seagull off the
Oregon Coast, lofted by winds over the
vista, cars parked, doors open, arms
pointed, eyes squinted at that or that
spray, while i dive for spun thrown
Nilla Wafers

 

– based off a tricksy little prompt from Two Sylvias Press
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