Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Poem: Disengaged


Red tumbles over yellow till the
coupling turns orange.
Yellow and blue in a corner,
making a perfect green of themselves.

He has met the compound colors and
seen the tire tracks on their faces.

The two-two tango is natural,
as is poison oak, lyme disease,
an unfortunate strike of
lightning to the temple.

He has taken the trip and yeah,
it’s a thrill ride, a levitation,
a Valentine’s Day fuckfest.

But one develops immunities,
a need to up the dosage,
operational expenses, wear and tear.

Alternative medicines:
a rainy night in San Francisco,
the diminuendo of a soprano,
a dozen daffodils in a coffee cup.

A friend who thinks you’re brilliant.
A stylist who massages your scalp.
A dog who thinks you’re God.
This poem.
This line.
This ending.

Sacramento, California
From the collection Fields of Satchmo

Photo by MJV

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