(Poem #291 on new numbering scheme)
One time, we drove to Winnipeg. We argued about things. The sun set over frozen fields; a bird spun on its wings. Michelle said she preferred Plato She forcefully declared: The essence that precedes language... no category's spared. I liked more Aristotle's views a fluid take on stuff: I felt thus that all meaning shifts, Essences aren't enough. We never did agree that day our anger simmered slow We stayed together three more years, Before I had to go.
– four quatrains in ballad meter