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A Note on Subject Matter
First, let's skip poems about
guilt, that buzzing fly, and
please, no more poems about
regret, silly bastard, standing
under the street light, collar
up, hat pulled low, always
pimping for the past. Really,
who could care less? And
while we're at it, let's avoid
poems about your father's
anger and your mother's tears,
because you can write well
about your family and I don't
care. Like I don't care about
your father's fall, his glasses
crooked over empty eyes,
dead when he hit the floor.
The way the afternoon sun
spread like a stain across
the yellow tiles until your
mother found him, her scream
for help, how you weren't
there for her, ever. I don't care.
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