High School Reunion

Everyone gathers to hear the poets preen

on the source of inspiration:

how the athletes ran into

glass cases;

how the singer overcame

dead man’s notes;

how the clown croaked

on a moped’s swerving laughter;

how the skin of truth

peeled from our bones

as the noise of the streets

drowned our jail cell march.

Huddled over coffee and secrets

we agree only those without

stand alone.

That their haikus

lack the character

of conviction.

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