Title:
<p>You hang on gaslights</p><p>I fall asleep to steamclocks,</p><p>your Vancouverique theories of special relativity.</p><p>Insurance fires the fake wood--- you are a pot of tea.</p><p>Over steeped, time to plant tulips.</p><p>Stop playing for keeps</p><p>You're like so American</p><p>You like little peeps</p><p>for Easter</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 6 and 9:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.