Editing poetry: nothing

This is something that was published once, but I forget when and where. I wrote it around a little sketch of a dragonfly in my sketch book.

The last time
I sat and did nothing
Or read a book
Without time whining
Through the hourglass
Like a vacuum

Snow was
Deep over

Franco was
Toddling in
His garden

Old potatoes
Were still new

The dragonflies
Were kickstarting
Their wings on
The back porch
Running ink
Into tiny grooves
Like a record

8-track was
The wave of
The future
Clicks and

Certain girls
Would be
Expected to have
Both long gloves
And cigarette holders

You were
A tiny neon
And nobody
Touched you


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