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January 19, 2006
riding the ormena expressed
it certainly seems
that brains cells dont grow on trees
in a city that has
crossed eyes
and four toes on each hand
level my head on a paint peel
watch the static grow
and flush away the sunspots
before they carry me to rest
beneath the empty fountain
grubby hands with empty bottles
link park benches to roadmaps
pond scum crawls out of the lake
and leads tours into the sea
picking pockets like spots
the candelabro lies poolside
something made in china
carved its all together
dime store history
is all they have to go on
rain does not electrify
the rubber soul jaywalkers
we need cool white wine
and a little sonic friction
to get the job done
they turned the saints into door knockers
and put all the authors in the inferno
just my wet clothes
and beaten shoes
know
who tells the story better
D.
Posted by Drexler at January 19, 2006 02:26 PM