Sunrise
What a Lucky Day
The Beat of the Mimeograph Machine
You are welcome in my house
At the top of the stairs
Leaving gifts of burning silhouettes
And shadows that will fade
Reflecting off the neighbors
Window teaching fiery colors
On the hot side analogous in yellows
oranges lighting up the shade
On the dining room wall
If this were fall in many
Rows of golden corn stalks
But this is cold early spring
That you have warmed
The frost away
And my heart for a few
More minutes then
My sun you have become day
As chatted on the train platform
We gossip about your accent
Becoming RA at midday
Balanced on god's head
That balance lost as
Fading to a tumble into nights shadows
Gathering up your rays
A lucky day to sit by
The window singing
The far never reaching one point perspective
With yellow aired
Thunderstorms
The rain running mud
Down the bank to the train track
Passing
A lonely blue plastic bucket
Getting less lonely filling
With water soon to reflect
A clear sky
The yellow sun thinking
We are so lucky we do
Not have to fight the
Stars, the moon
And the sun that would be a tall order
This was huge and smelled of denatured
Alcohol there was a two foot high
Box to stand on to operate
This machine she would do the
Hully gully and Watusi
Like a go, go girl
To the beat of the turning
Drum producing
Pages with letters of
Blue ink also smudged on
Her hands and fingers
Waving them while her dipping knees gyrated
I loved it when she
Said come let's go make some
Copies in mimeo
Room we let the drum turn
Our hearts in the
University art department
Intoxicated on denatured alcohol
We would always lock
The door until the drum
Stopped beating
Leaving with a stack that was
Tomorrow's syllabus
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