caught
on the cusp of a crayola colored wave
the
only thing i crave is a close shave
between
conjoined twins
let’s
begin again
in
this wave there are no fins
from
predatory prehistorics
mouth
foaming fossils fermented
while
the ancient gods of euporean culture
are
arguing with plato beyond the grave
so
why save anything but a lullaby
i
try not to why
i
just want to guide
the
conversation to who should be on top
walking
on blacktop
past
bookshops and bus stops
i
don’t eavesdrop
on
any vocal chords
there
is nothing worth listening to
except
really good music
so
drop the seed of your need
on
fertile ground
i
won’t be around
to
wait for the harvest
i’m
just a guest
who
won’t wear out his welcome
i
fondle, forget and become another moment
but
for a moment i will make you
feel
less toxic
while
i stumble on bukowski boulevard
draw
the sword and slay the dragon
of
your desire
everything
was destroyed in the fire
but
i haven’t lost a thing
and
love will never bring closer
just
exposure
that
the opening scene
is
all we wish to enact
a
one act play
before
the gray becomes the dilution
of
the clarity of black and white
so
i spend the night
and
leave you with memories
of
how you wish it could always be
intimacy
without
the afterbirth of responsibility
of
all the things
you
will collect
while
you fret
on
the frailty of your existence
i
don’t believe in happy or sad
but
i would be glad
to
stare at you on a godless shore
the
crayola covered waves gray
as
the earth and sky
no
reason to espy
just
see you in the coastal cold
and
realize you in the moment
nothing
more
***
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