Take a grey November day
add a late Romantic symphony
season with crimson poppy.
Watch as it bubbles nicely
let it thicken slowly around you
like a childhood Sunday
congealing like a glutinous gravy
as you listen to Tchaikovsky.
It’s good but you are not
finished yet.
In order to perfect your recipe
sprinkle a final garnish of
regret –
The last dance at the school
disco –
the one that you did not go to.
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