you remove
your hat and toss
it aside, heavy
with rain.
you take your coat
off next,
hang it near
the front door
so that it
drips against
the linoleum
tiles, puddle
where you can mop
up later, then
you sit on the
steps to take
off your expensive
water proof boots,
unlacing the strings
that burn tight
against your chins.
your socks come
off next. you ring
them out in
the kitchen sink.
soaked.
such are promises
unkept.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
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