lethe

crap

the raw exhaust guy outside
on the street is revving
his bass-tuned hemi
while he plans his second run by
the school around the corner
so some hot chick can
grab him with her deep mascara
flooded eye-hooks as he
burns rubber just a curb away

I’d like to curb his ass so
I can claw a few hours of shut eye
out of this bright midnight of a day.

I feel the parasitic tentacles of fatigue
sucking the sick corpuscles out of my
slick medulla oblongata graying it
off the clickables of my meditations

I want to climb the heavy hewn
block steps of the temple
and crawl into the hammock of oblivion
with the sexy heavy breasted muses
of sultry dreams and deep koal lids
to sleep into healing benificence
refurbish my clickables
into color-zoned health

Shut off the damned motor!

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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