Your Name Is Bobby

Posted on Jan 8, 2012

A found poem compiled from Craigslist Missed Connections posts

 

Are you alive? Or did you die
in that crash on Martin Luther?

Sundays are quieter now
without all the blues guitar.

I have three cats in my room;
I don’t know any of their names.

I am drinking and can’t remember
the specifics of that last night:

What color were our coats?
What type of shoes did you wear?

Is there possibility in absence?
I miss you, but then I don’t.

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