A whale so blue it must have been suicidal
hunts half a song. Peer through binoculars
and pretend not to be in love with
the scowling boy to your left.
Twice, eyes have been bars at four in the morning,
knees making sure of it.
Afraid of waking, he played six instruments at once
in a full volume spinning record.
It's always a blizzard.
Forget about the strobe light wielding Swedes.
They caused half of Milwaukee's quarter
life crisis scene to seize.
It's always a blizzard.
Inflated by the memory of two shy
girls and one beat boxing boy
in a room so dark it was almost light again.
They sat around a campfire
with little family and big strangers
as a man child jitterbugged, eyes knit shut.
Composer flashed a cape
and stretched it like a coda
while a drowning whale grinned.
It's always a blizzard,
with words pelting us
and notes sticking to our cheeks.
Jen Kraft prefers crabapples over ponies. "Dress Accordingly" originally appeared in the Fall 2008 issue of The Portland Review.
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