1984.


Come back to the funny feet, and the clutter

and the mushroom soup, and the peanutbutter

.

To the lumpy sofa, and the single bed

and the fern in the bathroom that’s almost dead

.

come back to the coins and the bills, on the table

and, the tears that I cry when I’m feeling unstable

.

to the pizza and pepsi, and the crossword puzzles

and, the Tuesday night garbage, and the mid-morning nuzzles

.

you’ll still arrive more than ten minutes late

taking time for a smoke, while I sit home and wait

.

we’ll read the paper, and talk about work

I’ll be the neurotic, and you be the jerk

.

it’ll be you and me, a little give and some take

we’ve still got a whole lot of history to make

.

come back to the same old thing every night

to your friend, and almost-your-mother-not quite

.

come back to the funny feet, oh – there’s clutter

and mushroom soup, and some peanut butter?

.

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

circa 1984

all rights. who’d steal this ?!

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4 thoughts on “1984.

  1. Good afternoon Ruth Ann – I discovered your blog through poetreecreations and I’m certainly glad I came to check it out. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself wandering your site. Your poetry is creative and makes me smile. Your contemplative stories are quite enlightening. Thank you so much for sharing your artistry with us and I’m looking forward to reading much more from you. Hope you have a most beautiful evening…
    Michael

    Liked by 1 person

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