Way out

August 31, 2010

Marie lived in the present
She used to smoke at parties
Death curling from embers
Framed her face in gray

I only remember
That she was always leaving
Her only way was out
Slamming doors a passion

She hated the term captain
She never tipped the driver
Even change for the barman
A coin for the toilet attendant

She was great at giving
We all knew her genius
Who could have predicted
That she would depart the stage

4 Responses to “Way out”

  1. Jessica said

    Thanks for your visit. I enjoyed this poem, the little details you’ve packed into the short lines.

  2. forpuck said

    Thank you for reading it. I really dig (dug?) your micro-poems. Very witty and sharp.

  3. wkkortas said

    Something of a pared-down “Richard Cory”, without the overt death (but there’s Death and there’s death, after all) and abrupt turn at the end, which makes it more life-like (and perhaps more satisfying) than Robinson’s poem.

  4. forpuck said

    Thank you for reading. I don’t think Marie is dead, she just chose do disappear from my life (and from other stages)…

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