Monday, August 19, 2013


She demurs, and I cannot stop
pounding my chest.  My soul
curls up on her doorstep, eating.
Trapped primitive, what is he
consumed by?  Can I still watch
myself with humorous detachment,
or will I pull down the
powerlines?  May the earth
actually become our mute
home, for a little while?

I go to dayjob with smile of maniac
because everyone doesn't know
that they know I'm not here!
She crawl around on the
hollow ceiling's upside inside,
shaking dust onto customers.

Dignified, I shake off some music.
She throws an imaginary hatchet
at my crotch, and it glances off
my imaginary denim, my actual
workpants fall to the floor.

We are both laughing.

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