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Untitled #5
by Gregory Wilde  /  poetry  /  27 Jan 2009

Micah and Jessie are getting married
I received a marriage invitation yesterday.
It was written on white paper with black outlines
Addressed to me and a guest.

I met Micah in French class,
Seven years ago now.
He lived just down the street
From the university.

Jessie was a girl I met five years ago,
Big smile and brown locks around her face,
Loved to debate the merit of art.
She accused writers of breaking the law.

I couldn't blame her, because I was a scientist.
Together we'd throw eggs on the art building windows,
Heckle the poets on Telegraph Avenue,
Give poisoned sandwiches to street musicians.

Micah and me fought for Jessie one night.
She was the perfect story for a scientist.
I bloodied his nose and kicked him in the stomach,
But he boxed my ears and gave me vertigo.

Now I'm regretfully passing on the invitation.
To see Jessie in a white dress in Cleveland snow
Just might give me the sickness.

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