The Long Game

Friday, September 11, 2015

by Todd Colby and Joanna Penn Cooper

Fridays are always good for me.
On Fridays I could be a grifter because
people trust me on Fridays. Everything
is always right there on my face, like
the flaky piece of a croissant I ate yesterday.

Long stretches of time get away from me
and then I'm in it again. The golden chain 
of forebears, and me in genie pants on a 
palanquin. It's ok, honestly, it's really ok.

When I woke up and got your message, we
were buying tickets for Paris. It was going to
be April, and I was trying to decide if that 
was too cliche. In dreams, begin dreams.
Still waters turn green in the sun.

Is a beautiful day a luxury? I watched it with
a few others from the cheap seats. The sound
was a little distorted, but it was such a refreshing 
change from my old roost under the mesquite trees.

In the old days, we used to hang out in the flesh. 
This is how I remember it, anyway. Someone is always
leaving or getting taken away, that's my statement
of artistic purpose in a nutshell.

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