In the morning, shower.
But at nite, yo, burn off the fright,
Super-Soaker I become.
As hot as I can stand,
Till my face is a strawberry field.
An hour or two, easing on out
Collected aches and mistakes,
If doable, think on how to make them
un-mistakeable.
Slip slide, music and shampoo,
Tablet baggied, ready armed,
To read and write,
Of and if and about
Us, our poetry,
At the intersecting crossroads
Of life.
Sometimes, I let the water out,
But down don't get out, just sit there,
A sticking stone.
Woman comes by round midnite,
To check if I am
Dead or just well done.
She sees me in the empty bird-word bath.
She doesn't have to say a thing,
Having seen me read your pleads,
She knows, I am drained,
The symbolism, too obvious.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
In the morning, shower.
But at nite, yo, burn off the fright,
Super-Soaker I become.
As hot as I can stand,
Till my face is a strawberry field.
An hour or two, easing on out
Collected aches and mistakes,
If doable, think on how to make them
un-mistakeable.
Slip slide, music and shampoo,
Tablet baggied, ready armed,
To read and write,
Of and if and about
Us, our poetry,
At the intersecting crossroads
Of life.
Sometimes, I let the water out,
But down don't get out, just sit there,
A sticking stone.
Woman comes by round midnite,
To check if I am
Dead or just well done.
She sees me in the empty bird-word bath.
She doesn't have to say a thing,
Having seen me read your pleads,
She knows, I am drained,
The symbolism, too obvious.
Created October 20, 2013
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