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Come with me, Shelby
come with me, Shelby
leave Dunkin’ Donuts behind
abandon the too-sweet smell of the batter,
the truckers’ glares,
long-separated from warm flesh
and soft mouths
leave your ill-chosen uniform
and the constriction of low wages
we’ll drive to the lake
sit in my pickup on top of the hill
try to spot the woodpecker
building a home
I’ll find us a tree
peck at it with my pointed intentions
burrow down
until the sap sticks to our skin
with a texture no glazed donut can replicate
we’ll have no natural predators,
feel no need to pray
content to perch
above the ebb and flow of this life
and to taste the sweet morning air
Cream filling trumps tree sap, almost every time…
True, true.
I hope she said yes! I used to work in a Dunkin’ Donuts. I would have loved for someone to take me away from the crushing sweetness.
Thanks, Marie! This is a work of fiction, but I like to think she said yes.
Sounds like a great plan. I like!
Thanks, Matt.
Poetry is not memoir–(we have to keep reminding people who know us). It’s the voice of the poem. I’m enjoying the voice in your poem: Come With Me, Shelby
Thanks, Elaine.
Beautifully written. I wasn’t expecting this when you started with Dunkin Donuts!
Thanks, Robin!
[…] the military, and his experiences certainly inform his writing. Matt read two of my poems, too – “Come with me, Shelby†and […]