YO. Sexy. Where Have You Been All Week?


The air was calm as fried food
Lulling under a heat lamp.
A pinch of salt,
Beaten turtles
And cuisine
In a paper bag
Speckled with grease stains,
That was

Monday’s oversight
Beguiled the taste
Of Tuesday afternoon.

And the movement of Wednesday
Resembled a cashier’s wrist
Afflicted with carpal tunnel
From swiping credit cards
To sustain her life choices.

That could be her drug habit,
Or what alluded to
Some untenable version of pleasure
That sparkled at dusk
And smiled below
The moon’s crest.

The weekend gave what it had.
Two orgies.
Three grins.
A dozen eggs.
That homeless stop sign,
Who forgot their purpose
When a politician
Sped through
The ordinance,
Waving hello,
Kissing invisible babies.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s