Poetry

June

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 POETRY








June by Jeremy Countryman




As I cross this bridge, tuning myself

like the downstairs guitar, she still eludes

me, with her lovely, lovely repetition, ruining

her life.



That’s just as well. She has nothing

to recommend to a stranger like me, who steals

badly, and lies worse. Her way of making

the world a little piece of television is to

blow people away, like dandelions on the

23rd of June.



That was her name, as far as I’m concerned.



June, the two-fisted bitch of the southern causeway.









©1999
Jeremy Countryman and Nerve.com