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December 19, 2005
eternally falling back on the undress
The second finger from the
wedding band
was sore about something
that lumbers in this fog
and after falling into
a pile of gravel, in a leisurly place
I later realized (with the one eyed jack)
that if my feet were as swift
as my hands once were
I wouldnt be in this
akward position of reflection
That paisley skinflint
that they dare address: a dress
is just a lure in the saltwater taffy
with the shifting of polka dots
atop the finest luggage
I cannot afford
afford to offer my assistance;
handling
afford to meet my resistance;
commanding
No,
we leave that to suave chaps
from the production lines
of the usual fashion
with ivory teeth
and more lines
that even my nose can handle
I sit beneath a green umbrella
and draw lines in the clouds
lingering on the pleasures
easily fashioned
Drawing lines of distinction
through the realities
never to be known
D.
Posted by Drexler at December 19, 2005 12:10 PM