i don't know about you, but
i couldn't care less about sweating at night
in archaic houses with a waterbug problem.
we don't need air conditioning, just watch,
we'll show every one of them
and i know that it really doesn't matter
that we sit on porches during summer
watching mars, suspended, and giving it
smokey marlboro rings.
i'm existing where i first existed,
tracing my roots like they were
the curve of your back, my palm
pressing down at all the right spots.
we drove by her house, and
none of this means anything,
but it's still nice to think about.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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i have nothing to really say because everyone already said it but i will say that i liked the message it gave that even if your poor it dosn't matter because even though your poor you have things rich people don't have
good job and keep writing
---Jon---
there are so many meanings in this poem, and that is what makes it good. i hear your voice throughout the poem, and i love what it is saying. you are very talented
keep up the awesome work 
I didint really like it on first reading, but on second reading I picked up lots of little nuances and images that I really like. This one of those poems that picks up more layers of meaning each time you read it. Good job.
i like it, though for some reason i got the image of an old wooden house with creaky wooden, well everything really standing on a tall hill in the clear backdrop of a nights sky. i dont kniow why you needed to know that but i like this poem.
haha...in tiny font, "burn the rich," that's funny. okay...lemme think
I like this because it has a really nice flow, and it gives me an awesome picture. The one line i don't like is, "but it's still nice to think about," it didn't seem to flow.
i couldn't care less about sweating at night
in archaic houses with a waterbug problem. *archaic...good word!*
we don't need air conditioning, just watch,
we'll show every one of them *haha! That made me laugh!*
i'm existing where i first existed,
tracing my roots like they were
the curve of your back, my palm
pressing down at all the right spots. *I like the comparasin there.*
anyways that's all I've got. Good poem, I like it.
*laughs again* burn the rich...