Sunday, June 21, 2009

lost poem

i see one arm rolling up the carpet and the other is brushing a taxi man's teeth.
the signals are crossed and the head falters.
"bring it in for a bath", someone suggests. let it settle down,
it's spinning like a top and i mean, it's trimming hedges, it could take a finger from you.
this dangerous thing has me all tied up, and then i notice a redheaded vulture
with no moral compass gambling with your last wheezing cloud of talcum powder,
hastily, and without remorse as if he meant to lose.
but how did he happen upon it in the first place?
you were saving that one. or I was anyway.

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