Fifty-Seventh Entry

Coming in just under the wire for this one.

There was a blizzard for like a couple of hours and then a clear sky. What the heck?

Here's my poem:

STEALING POLAROIDS

I place them on the stolen refridgerator.
We have a gig tonight. Issac's band
has twelve guitarists who taught themselves
how to play. I take you to a photo booth
and rub my face all over yours. I miss
you now, like I miss home, not because
it was so great, but because nothing else
has happened. When the Beatles were in
Hamburg they went by the name the
Mighty Blue Birds, they had three
guitarists who taught themselves how
to play. When I steal their photographs
I will fashion a medallion of their tongues
and this enchantment will surely,
finally for once, give me some luck.