Sunday, November 12, 2006
Let us fold our arms together
and walk along any cold street
in this annoying city.
Yours is the body I desire,
so lean and tall. I like you so much.
You talk and don't talk.
You give me your money always.
It's like a dream to me.
All those $20 notes from your pocket.
You invented me and showed me off
like a little glass ornament.
But I still love you. You are me.
And I am you.
and walk along any cold street
in this annoying city.
Yours is the body I desire,
so lean and tall. I like you so much.
You talk and don't talk.
You give me your money always.
It's like a dream to me.
All those $20 notes from your pocket.
You invented me and showed me off
like a little glass ornament.
But I still love you. You are me.
And I am you.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
seven or eight shirts
It was black and white
for Derby Day. And brown
for a manicured hand
leaving a silver trail,
like a diamond garden snail
down a torso in a birdcage
on raceday. A threadcount
not counted, but torn down.
A peach, not eaten but inhaled.
A powder room not used,
but talked about at lunch.
A train too full of individuals,
a jittering crowd spilling out
into a greengrass enclosure.
A glass held to a camera
with a big laugh and teeth,
a champagne zoom lens,
a newspaper, a formguide.
for Derby Day. And brown
for a manicured hand
leaving a silver trail,
like a diamond garden snail
down a torso in a birdcage
on raceday. A threadcount
not counted, but torn down.
A peach, not eaten but inhaled.
A powder room not used,
but talked about at lunch.
A train too full of individuals,
a jittering crowd spilling out
into a greengrass enclosure.
A glass held to a camera
with a big laugh and teeth,
a champagne zoom lens,
a newspaper, a formguide.
