well... just one of those times...
going for a refill of ice-cubes
in my glass...
in the thick of night...
an addict like any (happy to
be one, somehow i'm
able to live with other people),
and so the slow trance...
striding toward the fridge,
in a house clad by night...
dancing... jigging,
whatever the cool kids are saying
(only now, can a 30 year old
sound so out of date as a 70 year old)...
wow! check out my wriggling
up-right...
            that *** ****...
walking for a refill of ice cubes
grooving to salt n pepa's push it...
  must be akin
to something akin to the scenes
under an Aztec temple...
you know, that over-powering
sight of engaging in capital punishment...
    oh man,
now i got the moves,
   and pet names for pets that don't
exist...
    move me to Poland and i can
switch off the "addict" in an instant
and remain free of ***** for 30 days...
     i'm actually blaming it on
the environment...
     these isles ensured the very few a good.
i got the salt n pepa dance
to the fridge for some ice cubes...
    as ever, a party, and finally it's
no longer a frankfurter-fest!
    the best one you can have: solo,
and the amphetamine thrid-person
bypass that would require a publisher
and a profit motive for writing on white.
beautiful... absolutely beautiful.