Apr/May 2003 Poetry

It was just an aisle imitation

by jj goss


It was just an aisle imitation

black is only my color in the winter
it's sadly common this rebellion
against the gray
a line of crows on your telephone line
looked like an omen to me
but you liked the sleekness of their feathers
a flash of indigo when the light was just right
you knew it felt like velvet
even without touching

I was leatherette never claimed
to be the real thing I just stole the name
it didn't smell right but it felt just as cold
while you feigned concern for the animals
I pretended faux was fun
and we wrapped each other up in something
false convinced ourselves it was better
than something dead
from a distance you watched
as the birds swooped down
and turned away
as they picked at my remains


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