Saturday, January 21, 2012

The wet pavement was as dark as her eyes

It was like springtime in Abysssinia
& we were watching the rock & roll picture show
through binoculars
                              & the 36 chainsmoking buddhas in my hip pocket
were preaching a kind of punk compassion I
could really learn to dance to

My irreparable blue eyes
              gazing down into the windows of your
                              (I don’t know) soul?

              trying to find something to rhyme with
              the wind strumming the eucalyptus

                              I guess waves crashing like shattered glass at sunset
                                                                would be the acoustic version

              If I had a nickel for every time I crossed the beach
              & never came back I could buy you something
              nice to wear just so I could watch you take it off