poop poop

I used to drive out to the edge of the town I was living in,
a Michigan town on the northern shores of Lake Huron.
I used to drive out there to give a woman piano lessons,
piano lessons on a wheezy little electric organ.
I taught her some Bartók, some pop music.
We chatted about both of us dieting, trying to lose weight.
Poop poop she said if you want to lose weight

she looked back at me through the screen door as I was leaving
Poop poop she repeated encouragingly to me through the screen
her face round and her eyes bugging frog-like
Poop poop

a true poem written this morning by me

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