Sunday, May 18, 2008

Ain't That Lovin' You Baby?


He put the knife down

finally.

His pried fingers

ached.

It took extra effort

to pull them apart,

hennaed with watersheds

of cooling rage.

The choruses of panic

and certain supernova finality

fade out,

get gone,

go real rearview-mirrored and reverse

with every new nothing

blue bonnet baptized

into thought.

This is act one, scene one

of the real thing.

The understudy is sobered up,

skulled,

crowned,

and shoved into

the stage center sun.

Move.

He walked out the door

and rode the 355 express

to the Winslow ferry

shape singing psalms of awe

and

greased in the kill.

Right now he rides

back and forth,

sun blown,

wind burned,

and showered

in sprays of

creosote and diesel.

The hole he hides in

is only the pocket

of his pants.

The alibi he will give them

can't feed a goat

raised on broken glass.

The wind on the observation deck

squeezes the tears into

the corners of his eyes

and says,

"you are alone

you are not free."

The kangaroo court

she nominated,

benched,

and stacked

awaits his return

dung beetle determined

to hang every

silver suited stranger

that ever fell

into her arms

from the southern sky.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...
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ScaughtFive said...

I just pull it all out of the newspapers. The only thing that's been changed are all of the words. We may have avoided picking strange fruit but me still probably gonna 23 skidoo at some swingin' party stuck somewhere without an I.D. and a trustworthy pepper-maker one of these days.

Winston Underpetals

Anonymous said...
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Anonymous said...
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Surfswarm said...

hello americans - in 80's poltergiest stylie, i'm back. 'the only thing thats been changed are all the words' - oh scaught, you are clever, and miss AM, you shure are sweet in your new pic. i will be brief as i have had a wearisome three days. shall catch up on blog reading tomorrow. hope all is well with your blossoming romance, that i like the band recommended (which i will listen to a bit later once mahama junior is safely away to bed and i have herbally enhanced my hearing) and that mr bloody kilbey has cheered up, all will be revealed :)

Surfswarm said...

that would be mahatma junior, god i forgot my own son's name, shame on me