POEM: A Dedication

BY OLIVER WILKS

my near friend, who is coming down
with something
who only texts on weekends
who peels bananas from the bottom
and understands poetry
far more than me
my somewhat friend, who comes alive
around 9pm
who always stands on tubes
who uses words like ‘rotten’ and ‘lewd’
and is alone more often than not

my lunar friend, whose mouth droops
like the top of an O
and when silent makes you awkward
who reads i’m sure a book a day
sitting on white tiles
my friend my almost friend, who frowns
like soft bread being pressed
who is passively seeking a girlfriend
who likes rhyming poetry best

who i haven’t seen for a while
who kind of plays the guqin
and may have moved back
by now, a thin-walled, mouse-mauled flat

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