by Patrick Meeds
I’ve got a thing for rivers that wind
but that’s just a lazy way to say
I love you. Just don’t believe
for one instant that it’s not true.
That there’s not an entry in the
dictionary under Love comma
how too. In the summertime the sun
rises early and sets late. Still plenty of
darkness to go around though.
When they built the Eiffel Tower
the workers demanded higher pay
the higher they had to climb. As if
the result of falling five hundred feet
was worth more than falling two hundred feet.
You’re gonna go splat all the same.
Become yet another thing that goes away
without ever coming back. Like a Library book
lost in a move or a ring that slips off
a finger at the beach. Are you sitting down?
I’m afraid it’s bad news.
Patrick Meeds lives in Syracuse, NY and studies writing at the Syracuse YMCA’s Downtown Writer’s Center. He has been previously published in Stone Canoe literary journal, the New Ohio Review, Tupelo Quarterly, the Atticus Review, Whiskey Island, Guernica, The Pinch, and Nine Mile Review among others.
Hawaii Pacific Review 