Association
Dawns when I can’t sleep I walk
In thought, all the way
Around Walden.
My father loved Thoreau, I wish
He could have walked there
With me once
My hangover Virgil. Lying in bed
With a big ax
Lodged in my head, I still hear him
As if from the next room
Bumping ino things and cursing,
Give us this day. He mutters,
Our daily stone. Nice.
Can’t blame him though. This morning
Can’t sleep for missing him.
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