Blank Stairs"Blank Stairs"She stairs.Three flights down is her car.Sedan. Four door. Twenty-one thousand miles.In circles.She was an artist once.The smartest dunce.Finger paintings mostly. Never sold a finger print.Now she works five days for fity weeks. Filing. Typing.Her sentence is run-on.Never noticing the tessellating artistry of her cubicle horizon.Her T's are crossed, eyes are glazed over.Her tears are seeded Where the sonnets will grow.But they hold tight to old sights.Pupils too contricted from the monitor glow.She stairs.Three flights up is the roof.Sky. Four clouds. Twenty one mile view.In every direction.
A Tail of Two Prongs"A Tail of Two Prongs"We've talked once or twice.Me and her labia.Or should i say her labia and i."Play me a tune on your fork maestro!"She knows, yes she knows.Two prongs too long to tune wrong.Perfect pitch hero harmonizing her swoon song.She writes poetry and prose.Well, she tries to.Take her paragraph, tear in halfAnd a few lines slide through.Her oceans aren't deepBut At least the sky is bright blue.She is a Professional bitch.And still cant pay the rent.Perhaps she is in the wrong line of work.Yet,She's thoroughly dug.Men with spades, jacks over aces."This may hurt," sifting the pay dirtGrinning through cracks in their faces.I mind a gem that will go lovely with my earings.Hanging off the profiled lobes.Sometimes then vibrate in unison.And thats when i know to listen in.
My Hands Are FullMy Hands are FullIrreconcilable differences.It was love at first fight.I met and married her in a four post tikki bar.Under a 2.99 per minute plastic flamingo sunset.I've thrice divorced that girl from Ipanema.You'd think i would have learned my lesson by now.Perhaps i should write it on my hand.If i can find the space.
Coin Phrases"Coin Phrases"On the cusp...Exhibit dual nature yet remain a Taurus kid,I refrain from choruses, thunder-lizards and ThesaurusesPoor as piss, my brain is in the tourist bizForever falling...and wondering if the floor exsist...My wit leading in with a shit eating grinOver bathroom breaks and urine samplesAs i lure in ample ex-girlfriends and examplesOf a whole lot of harems of harlots and tramples...I dont debate the pros and cons that constitue prositutesCosting you losts of loot, lost on the Boston routeI join mages who blend sages and mix wizards that transcend pages...Press on rose pedals to toe metal and nervously prune'emAnd always coin phrases like "E Plurbus Unum"...