Things had been brewing backward for quite some time--
the storm
the duplicate fingerprints of impossibility
the well water that had the wrong idea
just like the patio chairs
and quite frankly, i was getting really tired of the hand me downs
the claim of a love for mustard and an inability to admit to kitschiness
the hiding of the cassette tape and all things nostalgic
the destruction of her walkman
I was only looking for my saxophone--
and maybe to break curfew at the risk of finding a rifle turned
It's good we all don't know our true destiny's.
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