Driving on lit highway lanes with
a heavy bag of love letters
full of confessions to read again.
Picnicking with the burdens of before,
clinging to a polishing wind, fastened but frail,
addicted to beginnings.
I play you sedately as you slip
on my over-spiced laugh
like you're not vulnerable to all
this freakish world's ecstasy.
With every stroking of your freakish talks
quarrels and kinks stoop over me,
unfastening my dinosaurish kisses.
Night pulls down its Sandalwood skies on me.
I sleep into night to avoid this yawning land.
I don't watch today as
sage and crimson casually pour
from my Glory-full chin.
The greenness of the piano warms me
with the brilliant strength
of tough November leaves.
I can't play the notes
though I feel I should.
Copyright © 1996
Forward to Bigamy in the Desert
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Path of Least Resistance
Cover of Episode 9