Sudden Rush

Reason shivers my spinal orangutan.
This is not a riddle.

You must learn me to love me.
Discard whatever you know each morning.

I am your happy hour drink.
I am a dream you forget each morning by eight.

In the twelve tastes a quarter apple
remains tangible but out of reach.

In the twelve quarters an owl
has no meaning devolved to humanity but owl.

My twelve sided face speaks with one tongue.
A ticket for little boats apt to capsize midstream.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

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