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Where Have You Been All My Life, Johnny Depp?
by
Laurie Joan Aron


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If I were twelve, I’d write your name in Peter Max pillows
Over and over until it was perfect.
But you were only seven, then.
Five years makes a difference.
You can’t remember the day JFK was shot.
That could be a problem in a relationship.
But I’m in love with your celluloid personalities: pirate, gypsy, dead man.
So it’s a little exciting to know that you go to the grocery store and the dentist, too.
Next time you’re in my town, I shop at the West Side, and see Dr. Klein.

First published in Circle Magazine (Winter 2004)
Used here with the author’s permission.

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Laurie Joan Aron has been a business reporter, collage artist and poet. She lives in New York.

 


New comments are closed for now.
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Love the poem ~ and Johnny. Too bad his taste runs to a woman half his age ~ makes you wonder what he's Really like. Guess I prefer the screen image...
Posted 02/22/2015 07:31 PM
Barry:
Well Done and fun to read.
Posted 02/22/2015 10:27 AM
Dorcas:
Cute.
Posted 02/22/2015 07:33 AM
Barbara Victoria:
This is fun.I love it. — Barbara Victoria
Posted 02/22/2015 06:00 AM
vscholtz:
Love this little note. I could have written the same sentiments to Jimmy Stewart in my day.
Posted 02/22/2015 04:52 AM
Cindy:
This is kind of how I feel about him. Thanks for reminding me this soggy Wednesday.
Posted 10/15/2014 09:18 AM


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