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Wish You Were Here by Teresa Gillespie

At first I thought it was a cuddly puppy wagging its tail,

but it really was an alligator lurking in the reeds.

What seemed to be a warbling thrush in the

upper branches of a fir tree

was instead an alarm clock ringing beside an empty bed.

What I thought was a bouquet of dahlias and lilies

was actually just a faded deck of cards.

What seemed to be diamond earrings nestled in a gift box

were really just rusty bedsprings in an abandoned room.

 

And what I thought was a six-ounce sirloin steak, medium rare,

cooked over a mesquite grill

was instead left-over hash browns in a styro-foam box.

 

My active imagination was tricking me,

for what I took for true love

turned out to be a faded postcard from a Tucson rodeo.

Teresa_Gillespie_

Teresa Gillespie is an emerging poet who lives in Kirkland, Washington. In addition to writing poetry, she enjoys gardening, hiking and playing the violin.