A Banquet in a Lumberjack Shirt

She sits with her forehead on her fists
And tries to think what went bung
Dial the weather to do the deed
Her smile curses him once again

He’s twice her age and slow and frail
He should be easy to slay
Her smile betrays an internal rage
She’ll shuffle him off his coil one day

With pen and ink and mindfulness
She’s a banquet in her lumberjack shirt
When she thinks she can’t find happiness
He gives her flowers in the dirt.

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