SUNDAY MORNING 4:45 AM

i left your touch for the god who hides

behind snow-filled skies

and the only creatures prowling the streets are taxi cabs

sucking blood like yellow-shark-wannabe-gods of hope

who offer you a ride but steal your innocence

telling you it is for the best

 

if there is hope

i demand to see it strung up and dangled

upon hot honey fumes of nothing

breaking the sound barrier

when the cops come to devour your soul

 

and why should i suffer

because my body bends better than the bum

tossed lightly by the pig with the hard shaft

i am merely a hope-filled dream to those who have a promise

i am only a something of a something to those wh eat fortune but vomit expectation

i am only an only to what i am

and that is only what i cannot be

when you are not looking for the reason for what is

 

i too have been mugged

by a moment filled with promise

by an eros-thumping second that stands with shadow-filled anticipation

life is more difficult for the white brothers and sisters who say

"it happened just around the corner"

than it is for us who live with the chalk outlines everyday

 

i left your texture

your hpe-filled curve

your solid slant

and caught the cab . . .

 

if only i loved you

and if only you presented me with a decent alibi

 

the big lies are the best and the little things are the big things!

 

there is no moment like the moment that mugged

my love-filled-struck-daytime-dream

she stood like an angel kissing wounds

left by the god who hides

behind snow-filled skies

and i loved her for it

Reviews

[Emily B]

This is filled with so many moments. Lovely, fleeting moments.