Thursday, August 4, 2011


an abstract expression to the young lady sitting in front of me
on the Bedford and County bus

– pardon me, but I glanced over your shoulder at your notations
especially the saturated one about snail-slimed cabbages! 
such love so many will never come to know but you dear lady,
you stick around 'till the rickety old bus stops one block
before the steps to your house.
– you know, it's too bad poetry makes us suspicious about people
who refuse to ride the bus. what a glorious shame!
so you’ll ride around with me again in our special way?  — that's good.
I'm an impatient man, but as the youngsters say: tomorrow waits for everyone.
 – away from home I'll leave Pablo to his partridges, Emily to her fig tree
and Ferlinghetti to his city, panting heavily beneath its bridge.
you'd think he's masturbating, and so he may well be.––such love!
 – you know, I'd like to slip last night's poem to you passing it over
your shoulder on our next ride together knowing you may not appreciate
the somber way I often misuse dashes and over-hyphenate but then
like a magician's puff of smoke we'll disappear beyond the steps to your house
and others will take our seats and who knows if they will be as rewarding
for them as they have been for us. 



                   












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