Duplicity

By Jennifer N. Kurdyla

This face has less
character than those around it. There,
fine grooves have been etched
in a pattern that give away

an important habit. A handsome
facet of personality, worn proud
and hard to duplicate, easy
to pick out in a crowd.

And that one, there, must be young
at heart, if not in age. To embrace
modernity with polished indifference.
No creases of fret about the means

necessary to support such delicate
construction.
(But perhaps it is no
burden at all—perhaps it only
shows on the inside, which is all

that matters, after all.) You know,
living among such company would
be hard elsewhere—someplace with
far fewer faces.

Halftime

By Anonymous.

baby, let’s talk about this long distance thing
I think it could work, though
there will be bitter cold at Lambeau
this year with the sportscaster echoing
through the dark continent between us
and if after months and months
we couldn’t say “I love you,”
I’d play you this Lennay tape
and it would almost be the same.