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Oh Stop Yourself
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by Bil Johnson
a cool summer morning
grass bending under fresh dew
i sit on the porch swing
and breath in rythme with the creaking chain
rastafarian light bulb left on from last night's gathering
i sip on some orange juice
and slowly nibble toasted pbj
(no worries. no need. not much ambition either. not at the moment)
the whir of a bike brings me back
mizl, pack on back, heading nowhere,
pulls over for a quick chat...
(fast forward. a few months later)
snow packed hard on the ground
i'm walking to work every morning
nothing starts a day like hardy on his deck..."good morning mr. johnson"
"a fine morning indeed." i'd reply.
goddamn.
i miss that.
i miss the clanking of empty beer bottles
chess games abandoned in mid-strike
and the anticipation of every weekend
...the little things from each of you.
you are all suspended that way in my mind
small pieces of perfection forever...
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Bil Johnson
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