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Don't Come Around Here No More by T.A. Noonan

for E.E.


It would be so nice, you say,

if something made sense


for a change. If your body

wasn’t the bright-iced cake


that Mad Hatters swallow whole.

Tonight, though, we’ll eat


the courses we know by heart

—your soup, my salad,


the communal tequila.

There will be no tea,


no party, no flamingos

to thrum cellos in the corner—


only fire on your lawn as I burn

every watch he ever owned.


I can’t promise to shut you up

like a telescope. Your shot glasses


will always nest in mugs, in bowls.

But I can be the Dave Stewart


to your Wonderland, picking sitars

as we smoke among the mushrooms,


& I’ll erase everyone from the table

if only you’ll tell me where to begin.



T.A. Noonan is the author of several books and chapbooks, most recently four sparks fall: a novella (Chicago Center for Literature and Photography, 2013) and Dress the Stars (Dusie Kollektiv, 2013). She lives on Florida’s Treasure Coast with her partner and serves as Associate Editor of Sundress Publications.