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a poem by Robert Grant

+A First Time for Everything

It was the first time in his life that he had sat shirtless on a hay bail.
The first time he had seen a wheat field littered with herbal toilet rolls,
the first time he had felt so small. 

The sun burnt his back, yet the wind kept him perfectly dry….Another first.
Birds sang only for him, the sky winked blue, rodents disturbed quietly,
yet something felt estranged .

For, it was the first time he hadn’t thought about her since they met.
First time her smile didn’t burn his eyes, her smell arouse, her lips whisper lies,
but even that was now over.

For he realized that she was all around him, smiling, as the wind on his face.
As the sun she clawed his back in memory of something secret, discrete yet familiar, 
as the hay bail she gave him warmth.

The reality of that field was dispelled from that second on, not so pure or natural.
As he could see her all around him, hiding true beauty, making everything plastic, manmade, for her innocence had arrived to enveloped the earth.

Nature was made ugly, everything normal turned grotesque…contorted, dissolved. 
He knew she was somewhere in the world, somewhere clear of questions and that place, wasn’t beside him on a hay bail…in the sun.

 

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