- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Random
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Huddled at the bus stop, scouting for rattles
of a battered 404 roaring over the bend,
or a Beluga and Dom loaded express,
a pearly white stretch limo
to salvation.
Random utopias drift by.
Revolution, burning bridges,
perfect tiramisu and turqoise candles,
tending a daughter's swingset bruise, tending a lover's
tender muscles, attending a mass, descending
to debauchery, letting everything go,
keeping everything close, a step
in a new direction, unknown levels
of awareness, amusement, amour,
distraction and dextrose high.
Sleep, coffee, extravagance,
dance, delirium, death,
anything but wait, anything
but parenthesis,
and the 404
that never
gets there
on time.
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