No Eggs

Drew Noffs

 

Two birds sit aching, spatially evasive -- fear and loathing of the shaded (though they're emotionally equated, secretly elated and hopefully fated).

 

Destiny is quite a fancy word (and yet it comes to work on both their nerves), building pressure and removing censure to erupt into a small "hello."

 

An awkward brush and a folded note deny the innocence of greeting, belying fears of never meeting someone
(anyone)

 


Flung into a fruitless flight of measures to endeavor a journey of love and pleasure, both will lose their footing putting each in rivaled pressing danger;

 

He will change, she will build
things will stray, they will tilt
Wrong is wrong, right's a fight
Tension, stress, deep-seated fears; we make you then and leave you here.
Your love is like a red-red thing -- trapping, circling and besmirching.
My love is lifeless, salmon pink -- withdrawn and bated, nearly plaintive.
My love is not your love, our love is not their love.
Spitting, squawking, shuffling about, the birds take their leave and resume their route.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790