Chester, 1:00 a.m.


He will always be blue flannel,
a plaid hard crush against skin.
Jethro Tull on a flute in the dark,
and the taste of unseen spirits.
His kiss,
our punch-drunk dance
against kitchen counter —
what did we want
from that brief romance?
I still wonder.

POEM ©2014, Jen Payne; inspired by a moment and Bourée, by Jethro Tull. IMAGE: Untitled (Blue Divided by Blue), Mark Rothki, 1966.

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