aerial burden of the ox

with the old decades shown in the rain
burdening me with a dampness
remorse in it’s wanting has,
flesh colored dreams
drawn tight into deep constriction
the next day would be more relevant,
sipping a coffee cold at the edges
no plate on the mat
hunger not the issue here,
wet clothes painful to the bone
unnoticed by a vapor soul,
scented thoughts
as my mind peeled
drawn into segments pithy and secretive,
pieces i could look at
and not venture a taste
any sweetness gone
acrid juice spilling over lingering images
this fight so ancient
could break me down at the yoke
leaving a harvested husk
and no resonance,
only to be lifted skywards
coffee grew cold
mat still empty

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purpose of the song

red syrup lips and melodramatic coffee

with one too many sugars in,

cinnamon toast with a slather of butter

melting slowly into a last tango,

short neck ached and rolled his head

in no hurry to retire as master of the stool,

radio perched on corner shelf

gave a soundtrack that a morning

this dull needed

rain that sometimes threw itself

against glass so vision streaked,

another diner who had rig outside

looked vacuous as if part of his brain

had disengaged permanently ,

sumptuous toast bite  butter ran

from the corner of his mouth

damn he needed a bib,

a single paper napkin dabbed it away

as he looked at her again

violet on the name badge

next time passing caught her arm

fingers harmlessly easing pressure

and made his smile as vibrant as

possible,

when do you get off

with a sassy shimmy and smirk

eat your toast and drink your coffee

then you will know,

he loved the manipulative tone

of his falling into a trap

that passion had sprung

gulping with an eager tremor

knowing he was ready

Sunday Whirl

 

Under Shapes

i have let go the balloon

so all of montana

can see,

red adventurous not dismal

and shallow,

beyond flatness

and interjection of mountain

spike,

i remember the waitress

she with black flat shoes

that squeak,

luscious hips that waved

not so discretely,

in these moments

pulling collar tighter

with the encroaching cold,

that seemed to affect the

mind,

so that all i could do

in conversation or

thought is waffle

 

Removing The Day

milk white still cold

waited for the final coffee,

her shift finished at nine

and the day sepia slowed,

she wanted to shower

refresh her bare flesh,

to see him again

remove the odor of last fries

evidence of work

gassed and greasy

in stagnant place,

he knew her number

and would call

voice smooth,

evidence of love,

before showing,

getting into car

putting it in gear

and driving away.

for the Sunday Whirl http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/