Butter-cup blue, baby baby.
I skid out of bed
with no
respect for gravitas,
and paw at a faint fleeting glow.
Tilt back -- as far
as I can
(without going flat),
squint,
and make a wish up-on the blank city sky.
Silence gapes.
Grandma’s dying. Shhhhh…
Waves are breaking:
All far away.
Lips are waiting. Someone’s humming. She
(“a” she;
“some” she), wonders what’s my deal.
Free
f a l l i n g.
(Almost free. Almost falling.)
No flailing anymore;
I lean
into the breeze;
recline, and rest my head
as the Oh-Two tears
at my clothes like a drunken lover,
and pulls at my hair
like time
spedup…
(If) (I meet a girl named Simile, I hope she’s like a……………?)
(…or something damn near to it.)
Much love
And kisses with mouths
full of hair.
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