red wine and granola
it’s all here, ginsberg and pot and lots of guitars
putting the porn on the wall doesn’t get it off our minds and
I don’t know how to be discreet so I ignore you
I understand how you leave more than you arrive
don’t waver, I’m not ready but
I feel you through the thick stitches of your vagabond pants
the last time you went something imploded
shockwave images pushed me up my elevator while
you thought thunder and shook through the streets
so you say
sometimes I wonder about kindling and nerves and
is there really a difference
for now I wrap my legs around what my mind can’t
the dirt under my nails reminds me of you
(October 2009)
writing and romping 