Laps
The trouble had passed—
or so we thought.
It had simply rounded the corner.
And uh-oh, here it comes again,
finger-pointing, looking for someone to blame.
You? Me? All the people crossing
The George Washington Bridge?
That time you kissed me,
I discovered a hair
growing from your ear.
Please, don’t tell me how it ends.
With all the vampires on the vampire assembly line
found to be defective, lunching
on gazpacho at noon
in the brilliant summer sunshine.
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