called for the cavalry,
but they never came;
searched for your history,
shrouded in mystery,
then I couldn't remember your name --
something that rhymed with mine,
something tricky, but not really sticky,
since it didn't stick with me:
just like you,
stuck to another time;
just like glue,
obvious, oblivious,
and not so sublime.
May 12, 2009.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
5/13/09
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