The wisp/ the kiss, the memory. The Long island ice tea.

johncoyote

The wisp/the kiss, the memory. The Long Island ice tea.

A Chapter by Coyote Poetry
"A new series of short poetry. Part one." 

            The wisp/ the kiss, the memory…

The Long Island ice tea. He had traveled 1500 miles to see her face and he went to her home. He waited for her and he saw a baby girl dancing with his beloved. He saw she wasn’t alone. A young man came to her and he embraced her. He knew, he was the dummy who loved war, song and the highway. Soft tears fell from his face and he drove away. She turned and she saw him. He gave her a small wave and he drove to Ann Arbor. Her saw a great sadness in her eyes and he knew. He wouldn’t never see her again, kiss those rosy lip and put his…

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