Sunday, January 18, 2015
PRESIDENT OBAMA
has not,
as yet,
called
me. I don't
understand
why.
Certainly
he has to know
that writing
a poem,
especially
about a woman
that you're
in love with
or not,
is as
dangerous
as shooting
some stupid
Somali pirate
on the high seas,
or scaling the face
of a cliff
with your hands.
How does he not
know how crazy
your life is
when your heart
is in the hands
of the right
woman?
I think
he needs
to listen
to us
tightrope walkers
on high
falling
falling
falling
with only
our wits
to serve
as protection.
Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015
Labels:
dangerous play,
falling in love,
Poetry,
President Obama,
writing
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