#100repchallenge, poetry
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#073: that day the weather couldn’t make up it’s mind

L asked her on Saturday morning

Between Costa coffees and intermittent rain sprees

What she wanted from life

(Her Goals with a capital g for the taking)


As they trudged through the park’s swamp-like green

She said how she’d sent her mortgage-length memorandums

Those manicured manuscripts written by a signatory

Who had only experienced life in theory

To the bombfire

(She was expecting a subpoena from her 8 year old self any day now)


I. Don’t. Know.

A strange liberty uttered from her lips

Reaching the tips of L’s ear drums

You don’t know?

(L’s eyes made an ‘aren’t you a bit too old to be this lost’ shape)


Silence joined them for the rest of the walk home

‘Til they reached her door

Key still in the lock, she turned to L and said

Perhaps it’s not what I want FROM life

But HOW I want to live

And how’s that? asked L.

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