once a red apple, now a brown core
no rope, no moor, that boat’s ashore
no matched sock, a lonely dark drawer
music’s all played on the dance floor
the labyrinth stiffed its minotaur
it’s no longer there, but wherefore
wrote you a poem, though you’re not anymore
Image credit: An old boat on Kuta Beach in Bali (2012), Jimmy McIntyre.
Primitive Joe 
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