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Here’s a verse vanilla plain:
I went by foot, you took the train.
I waited for a word
in vain.

The silent treatment was a strain.
Long, somber hours became my bane.
I had some thoughts
that weren’t

I drank some wine (to ease the pain).
The tannins sponged blank my left brain.
I poured the rest right

I read Wakoski’s ‘King of Spain.’
Outside wet snow turned into rain.
I went to check my mail again.

Sarah Sloat

If you've any comments on this poem, Sarah Sloat would be pleased to hear from you.