noses are roses

funny, peculiar is different from

funny, ha ha.

but i laugh at the curious more than i laugh at comedic.

and as strange as it may seem,

i am enjoying the time i have here

right here

smack dab on the edge of this bed

smack on the outskirts of the center of this

oh-so-drearily humble bumbling bustling

trusting town-city of mine.

here in the woods of america

the hidden, the lame, the unattended

in a corner of the world that seems

so familiar to so many

and, yet, none of us know one another atall.

we refuse to smile

we refuse to greet

we refuse to wipe our noses in front of others

in fear that we might

come off as

vulnerable.

a runny nose is hardly a case for a 

heart worn on

a sleeve.

and yet, here in the woods and on the outskirts

of a city-town so lovely so dear so sweet

i sit on an empty bed and hope

to meet

you.