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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Sunday, October 29, 2023
the slow trickle
she trickles
her love
towards me, a slow
drip
from the faucet
of her
heart.
a warm flow of drops.
i bend
over the faucet
and drink
and drink, not wanting
it to stop.
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maybe she'll call back
if you no longer want sex, get married
just say no
hard and caring
a quick stop along the way
when it all hits the fan
the Saragosa Sea
falling away
visiting her dead rescue dog
the three of us in bed
the road trip up north
tapping out
big bad Ruth
hatred back in style
so much and yet so little
chasing leaves
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in your own world
the green stuffed frog
coo coo for cocoa puffs
be patient
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remember that guy?
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the insanity
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who is she exactly?
hold on tight, it's going to be a bumpy night
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her flowered gloves
i turn, but no
Indian Summer
Chesty Morgan
be lazy, be late
you work, i'll wait says the kid
father and son time
vote early and often
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clearing the calendar
the end of the world as we know
i'll call you on that
as the basket comes around
coffee and candy bars
forever young
small steps towards cold
you left your arugula
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one more pina colada
whose side are you on?
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all or nothing
read and learn, then run
the melting of lives
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the clogged drain
the scary couple next door
just having a little fun, she said
it's the MSG
those days are over
too busy saving the world
grad school thieves
a very deep sleep arrives
where did i put my good sword?
chicken necks
showing me her new baby
lessons learned early
change the channel
sip carefully
Biblical times
B-29
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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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