IT'S MORE THAN AN ADDING MACHINE

I am not writing a song nor a poem about you
You are an aftermath of my choices
I NEED to write
You want me to write
I write about wind through pine trees
You burn them
... and curse the cresso.
Like the torches of Spain.
Denying the Yucatan of their lore.
Do you deny me mine....
Bill: I guess that's good poetry
... only to be flushed away like a ribbon of his triumphant defeat!