There's a
black cat on the roof
and
a girl with
Coca-Cola skin.
One surely
is an omen for bad luck
& the other
is merely
a
cat.

Ol'
leafy Whiteaker
alive w/
death
& my reflection in the windows.
Alive w/
strange breeze &
all that is carried w/ it.

Curiosity is killing
everything
but somehow keeping
me alive.
Tossing and Turning on
the cold banks
of the
Willamette.

Ice water that
creeps into the
street & sweeps up
all
mystery
while children bellow
from beyond.

Indecency
is a weight
that they have yet to know.

They are wild
& sick w/ the
fresh evenings of the future.
Mondays &
Sundays
that you & I shall never
ever see.

For now,
All I have is the girl.
The
Black Cat
has long since fled.

Laughing.