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“PERHAPS, I’M IMAGINING THINGS.” a poem for Saturday, November 30, 2019

Jasmine’s a journalist;

She’s been around,

The World (and probably Mars) but now in Alpine* She’s found,

A wonderful, little brick house with trees and a yard;

She says (that) HER HUSBAND’S IN NEW YORK, and He’s working very hard;

He’s a “maritime lawyer,” handsome and “on fire.”

But, JASMINE’S HERE in town, and I imagine,

She might be “murder for hire,”

‘Cause the others day I was at her place, Eating The Thanksgiving Meal,

And we all watched a documentary of Hers; IT HAD AN EERIE FEEL:

It was about: division and death in Cyprus, a beautiful, Greek home,

Now populated by a bunch of Turkeys,* who are constructing pillars and the occasional,

PRAYER DOME,

And I noticed (that) Jasmine’s husband had inHerHome a bare room,

And His picture was lodged in a Hitchcock poster:

“The Rear Window” (of doom?),

And Jasmine talked about her husband, as a man She did adore,

But I noticed, as I “poked around” in his room a bit of a creaky floor.

I imagined I noticed the aromatic smell of embalming fluids and oil,

And I shuddered to think He might be wrapped there in aluminum foil,

Just beneath the floor boards here in Little Al pine.

“I LOVE[d?] that man,” Jasmine said; “He ALWAYS

Will be MINE.”

fin โ™ฅ

  • – NOT Thanksgiving turkeys though

“A LIMERICK re: JASMINE’S TEA.”

She said “it was GingerPeach tea,

That She had justGiven to me,

But ARSENICtoo [Ithink], a hint,

She may (later) attachMe toAsplint,

As “rigored,” very soon I might be.

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Published by J Jay Samuel Davis

A West Texas Cowboy, seeking "fishers of (wo)men!"

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