Exile    poems by Matthew Freeman February 2021

The Cure

I was watching the Cure
on my dear sister’s flatscreen
so elegant in the exile here
and I became
a little sentimental
for Lesbia and Scholars House
and how much I loved her
and then I proceeded
to get really sad which was good
because for so many years I
couldn’t feel anything at all
but then the sadness turned on me
and I started
to totally freak out
so I took my Ativan and
in a little while I became cool
and I thanked God
and I thought man
I couldn’t even imagine
what I’d feel
if I were still on dope and beer.
But, you know, Lesbia would
never tell me how many times she
tripped. So what, she’s wealthy now.
What she did do, was this:
I showed her
a poem and asked her
if I could get away
with making a peculiar phrase.
It’s poetry, Matt, she said.
You can do anything you want.

 
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