the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Don't Get Too Close

A misprint in a bestseller
Has become the fingerprint
For the investigator.
He was fixated on extraneous information,
But still straining to find his justification
At the bottom of a pitcher of sangria
To find that none of it was a good idea.
Earthy eyes, vanilla hair,
Well, can I just say that I wasn't aware
That coincidence would find the archived page,
That confidence could tear in such a way
And this ink would bleed onto the frays
So I'm left with so little room to say.

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