Mead With A Man Named Friday

On Friday there was a man named Friday
I sat in his lap and kissed his mouth

3 days later and counting
and not a drop to drink

Meeting Friday on Friday
turned my world upside down
and all the mead fell out

I wonder if Odin will let me keep writing poetry
without his drink in hand

I worry so, for myself
Wonder if I had not met a man named Friday on Friday,
if I ever would have stopped
blurred
tripping feet
stand still

Stop

Despite my misgivings, it was a good kiss
From what I can remember

Which isn't much

Which is the problem, after all

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