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My Title is Up Here

When I meet

someone, it always

seems that their

eyes run up

and down

the length of me,





they skim me

and sometimes it feels like

they’re pulling me apart

inside their head.

Do they want to find

those places where the words

make gentle curves on the tongue,

and the clever rhymes are wrung out

as chimes heard in the mind?

Or maybe it’s

the images

they want,

so they

linger like

a lazy wolf

over each


Or perhaps my shape catches

their eye as they roll it over me.

“Oh, I’m a metaphor man, myself.

But I do enjoy good piece of formatting.”

And always,

when they have come

to the end,

when they have marked

and rated

and scored me,

they turn the page

and do it all over again

with the next one of us

to come along.

Though maybe they’ll elbow a friend

“Check out the rhythm on that one!”

before they’re done with me

and they move on to younger words.


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