john reinhart
burn this card on top
of your keyboard - drop
the computer into the
trash
compactor, find your
shoes -
leave your phone at exit
1,
just below the exit sign;
pick up the first
hitchhiker
and give her all your
cash -
400 miles from home,
leave
your car; walk the rest
of the way into the
sunset,
a future brighter than
any
imagined for you so far
and it's all yours, today
Poet's Notes: I
recently acquired a typewriter. This is like achieving some sort of hipster
merit badge. I enjoy postcards as I enjoy postal correspondence as I enjoy time
travel. The addition of a newfangled outdated typing tool has enlivened my
already lively love of postal correspondence, at least to the degree of postcards.
I have sent poetry postcards to Canada, England, Germany, Venezuela - drop me a
line and I'll send one to you, wherever you are. This poem is attached to a
postcard I created, where the words in the title appear on the front, where the
"wish you were here" picture customarily goes. I try to make some
relationship between the postcard, whatever the picture, and the poem, which is
both an engaging challenge and sometimes makes for unusual poems. You are
forewarned.
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