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On a Wednesday in 1989

As clear as twelve-hour old coffee
she told me goodbye
a jolt of caffeinated remorse
left me wide-eyed and pondering
as the glare from dawn’s light
screamed, painfully, ‘morning after’

The pot turned out to be empty
a good thing, in retrospect as I
sure as hell didn’t need topping off

By poetluckerate

I am a poet, writer, and teacher who moved from Minnesota to New Orleans in 2008 then returned to Minnesota in 2018 - hopefully, to stay.

I lived in the most urban of settings, and the rural Midwest. These perspectives impact my writing in very unique ways.