shattered fragments
these scattered fragments.
your endless firing up of flares and bongs.
green slurred words
smearing across parallel portraits.
then this "has-been" hippie chick,
lights up another TRUE.
her body jitters in offbeat tempos.
"i wanna be like you"
flicking her ash, she hangs her head...
her long, over-dyed mess of black hair swaying.
for me, the second hand forces another break of day.
while your southern hemisphere spins free.
my pulse now bearly audible.
old words joined like hands form a circle.
tho silence_ _ _
never held me under your spell.
woe isn't me (anymore)
cherry red nineteen eight four camaro
passenger's door a shade or ten off from the rest
"it's the same color... i had it repainted".. or some shit like that.
no a/c left, no tape deck left, radio shuts off and on without warning..
antennae was stolen at some concert i think......... i don't know.. "it was
there when i pulled out of the driveway" or some shit..
hatch back won't unlock anymore....."it DID when you got it... didn't it??"
gotta crawl across the passenger's side to unlock the driver's door...
what a piece of shit....
fuel pump click, click, CLICKS in my ear all the while warning me to NOT get low
on gas...
katie calls it a "ghetto rider"... or something like that..
she ducks down when i drop her off at the junior high school dances in her black
designer jeans and too low-cut belly shirt with her hair all ironed out and
smelling like J-Lo stuff..
it takes the pack of teenie-boppers all around town, to star-fux for cappucino
or some
shit like that........ they all liked it ... not katie tho.
i drive the two miles up the hill then down the hill to work every day.
it died in this frozen winter here in the east.
30 days of ice and it lost it's cool.
too many days of frost makes the lady lose it... or some shit like that.
or some shit like that.........
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hhmmm, having been put in the position of "trying" to be clever with the content of this bio, i find myself at a loss. i'm better at the impromptu i believe. anyway, i write "poetry" which my family and friends patronizingly say is fine. however, the professor at our local college, (Bucks County, Pa. Poet Laureate for several years) seemed to have quite a different and less complimentary opinion. (smile).. i write for therapy which is more than any person should expect. it seems to be safer than medication and a lot less expensive.
i'm not an artist, a photographer, a musician, or a math teacher. i do APPRECIATE art, film, music and i like math. (smile).. i travel the highway and i have 13 earrings in my left ear. that's all i can think of that's "clever". |
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