these rungs..
on which rung
does one stand in
this morning sun..?
the bottom rung
seems firmly planted
in this shopping season..
black friday entry
frenzied desires propel
our seasonal excess..

season is dark from
light saving they say..
where is it saved..?
in bright windows
in smiles and trees..?
and we might ask
finding two faces
on this lower rung..
what faces are there
in that rung above...?

I'm trapped in that place
blips and zings shooting out
lights thick enough to take up space
All I can hear is that bass and a sample
shouting, "Drop it to the floor make that
*** shake!"
Suddenly it's a competition
everyone asking, "Yeah, well
how many did you take?"

I feel them cranking up the noise
watch those costumed beauties
listening to the sample auto reverse
grinding up on those boys
"that's an *** quake!"
joy, joy, joy
we all got down to business
as if we were Mercy employees

Back at the hotel rooms the track
drops again, taking hold
of my brain in the back and
rocking my head side to side
I can't stop this feeling like
somehow I got trapped
in trap

Gorgeous girls never flock to me
with my goofy grin and icy feet
Sure some pretty ones come
and talk to me
But I look inside and what
do I see?
Emptiness, some worries about
what people think and a thick
vein of vanity

Don't get me wrong, smooth skin
is nice and makes me think
of giving in, but where's the
beauty of a wrinkled brain?
Where is the darling charm
that comes from thinking?
Give me crows feet from years
of laughing
maybe some scars for kissing
and a stubborn idea or two
to keep me guessing

Because flawless hair is nothing
compared to a flawed but thoughtful
mind
and big chested, large rear-ended
doesn't have scratch on imaginative
and inventive
**** walks combined with hips
can't hold a match to intelligent words
pouring from chapped lips

So here's to hoping that
sometime soon, I'll get the chance
to stumble and fall into a
wrinkled brain romance