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Justin Bigos

Yes & No

 

Yes to the wooden giraffe airmailed from Arizona

with a note from your mother-in-law saying no more

excuses to sleep unprotected by your spirit animal,

but no to a new kind of insomnia. Yes to most -philias

not in the dictionary, like car washes in the rain

and bakeries on fire, but no no no to looking at old photos

with a bottle of Maker’s. Yes to your wife drinking

beer in the shower, but don’t hop in and join her,

let her have this moment beautifully wet and alone,

you’re here in the kitchen sautéing spinach and garlic

if she needs you. No to speed limit signs graffitied

but yes to climbing the overpass at night to tell the world

exactly the year that you loved her. Yes to tuxedos

and bowties, but only if you’re pouring prosecco

for Steve Buscemi, no he doesn’t look as weird in person.

Yes to starlings and rats and a big thumbs-up to pigeons,

America’s sexxxiest bird, doing it on stoops and rafters

and rooftops, lounging on the lips of fountains gurgling

their coinage, circled and circled by bright yellow taxis,

what must look like a sunflower at 10,000 feet

to the pilot quickly descending, who says no,

he means yes, he will sell all his medals and JetBlue

rainslickers on eBay, and open that damn dive bar.

 

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