Dear Tod,
Thought you’d like to know
I’ve heard again from your friend
the Nigerian prince, who’s vacationing
in Saint-Tropez with my friend
Shelly. I can picture them
together — her dark curls
and his, her vanilla flesh
his chocolate — though his taste
in companions favors
the purse, the rings, the platinum
cards, hers ensorcelled
by baritone notes, by lyric
lust. And now his jubilant
postcards freckled with her
exes and ohs, her little purple
hearts, his pleas for rescue.

© j.i. kleinberg

6 thoughts on “TWENTY-ONE

  1. Thanks! Who knew there was a Bellingham group? I’ve been confused since I started — I think I’m an hour ahead. Posted my first poem at 6. Just one more to go! Thanks for everything.

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