Not All Of What Follows Is True

A recurring journal of mixed veracity.

Friday, April 24, 2009

This is that poem that I haven't written yet
I've been wanting to write it for a while
But it's a target hard to hit.

I tried to take a photo once
of a courtyard at the Louvre.
My camera couldn't fit it in.
I got what I could into frame
But when people looked
They'd say "Is that it?"
and the palace seemed a let-down.

You want to know
What I think of
When I think of you.
Some things don't fit into the frame
You can only show a part
To show the whole.

I remember The first time
When we took a taxi
Down the potholed street
And you held my hand.


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