trips, tips, toupees

We're intellectually parachuting
through mine fields and central park
shortly after dark.
Interplanetary misconceptions
in church pews and cofession booths
Short of breath mid-bike-ride
cigarettes dangle 'tween the lips
casualities of sandals and lost books
We're lost in the scope of
dreams and schemes
clouds of purple and grass of orange

Reviews

[Don Coorough]

Psychedelic! :) The fascinating thing here is to relate the poem with the title. Tripping in central park with the tips of cigarettes hanging out of your mouths, you discover the passage of time and lost youth leads us to a loss of our youthful idealism as we don the toupees of middle age. Very cool. - EllisD