Monday, February 24, 2014


The Betty Poems

As soon as she saw the package,
she wanted to send it back.
The package might have
appeared older
in the northern light,
slower and less sure
of the footing,
or heavier
from the layers of clothes.
But she'd already committed
to trying it out
for eight days.
What the fuck
am I gonna do
with this for eight days?
she said to herself.
I know!
I won't fuck him.

I sent myself back
in five.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014

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