Wednesday, April 13, 2011


The night he died, he wore a
yellow tank top and danced.
He had family in town,
who sat at the bar
drank red wine and
talked stocks.
He kissed his daughter
when she left to go home
to sleep.
The divorce was final and,
after two years, the house
was his and tomorrow
he had landscaping to do.

Before that night was over,
I wonder if he thought,
"sometimes life is perfect."

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