Rip Van Winkle

Rip Van Winkle.

 

It caught him

by surprise

the photograph

 

of he and her  

kissing in

the living room

 

at his temples

the grey hair

plainly obvious

 

the young

woman kissing

the aging

 

poet, unaware

of his aging.

It’s all out

 

of context he

thinks,  moving

aside the haiku

 

stencils, spray cans,

the paper

kites he’s building

spread out across

 

the wood floor.

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