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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Sunday, June 5, 2022
hot peppers
you know what they will
do to you,
sliced peppers,
red or green,
hot
and raw,
drawing
beads of sweat on your
brow,
there's not
enough water to
quench the sting
and heat
of them.
and yet you can't resist
biting down,
no different,
than fast
women.
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nothing is lost
the velvet box
neither were true
half past seven
i'm ready now
another new game to try
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burrowed in cool
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no longer living in the now
her steamy long showers
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send a fruit basket
pickle ball
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so bright, so bright
still missing
reading the room
her green martini
the honey pot
all things made whole
before the first sin
the gypsy souls
just float
a long slow yawn
what's their problem
with nothing to add
his confession
not a single cloud in the sky
there it is
back to the dark ages
so many nice people
no animals were slaughtered
the reliable brain
the stubborn door
old love
it's a jungle in here
the day of the gypsy
a day in the city
mighty mouse in a sarong
stay out late
millennials, oh my
perfectionism
a wedge of lime?
the traffic jam
no visible bruise
who's in charge here?
a perfect bake
the drama of others
a radius of two miles
a few red flags were apparent
thin sliced baloney
out to lunch
don't delete me
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word salad
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to you, in late spring
no magic
whatever you do, don't pull my hair
use your nails
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now is the past
a dying breed
baking love
what bends me towards her
so close at hand
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take it to bed with you
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where are they now
warm muffins
getting smarter
mediation
crickets
whatever i find
the beep beep beep
making that vroom sound
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About Me
Stephen Chute
west springfield, virginia, United States
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
View my complete profile
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