NaPoWriMo, Day Twelve, Poem Twelve

 

 

Open Micer Exile

 

Away with your

open letter to

The Atlantic,

one of two 

pencil written

submissions

obsessing over

pair of panties

from fourth grade.

Nothing sounds

cute when you're

in your sixties.

You tell everyone

nobody listens

anymore anyway,

and we finally

have not listened

for the last time.