Thursday, October 1, 2009

there is always a dance in memory recalled

do you remember the petty thieves that nicked our golden time
with inexplicably bucolic adhesives and simpering mailings
while, in our panic that suddenly erupted over a bloodless box,

the ticking low tide crawled in like a sneaky scarlet clock,
and grinned?

I think I meant the tide but I might have meant the thieves:

I remember the clucking of a wet tongue over frosted puckered lips
and plaid shorts that rhymed the bongo with a wryly thumping rhythm,

and:

go, man, go.

if you needed a color to make this scene ring true,
I would have suggested a pale, cool, translucent green-

then there was that geometric row about cranberry and lime,

before:

lefty told gene to nose the impala out from the lane and watch for heat,
and paul declaimed mayonaisse on a hamburger if lettuce was included,
and paula groveled her greasy coins for the salvation of neon seduction-

My clamdiggers got wet when I washed the tidal loss,
and I had to go to bed.

4 comments:

  1. Glad you're back.

    "the ticking low tide crawled in like a sneaky scarlet clock"

    man, that's nice.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gerry,

    Good to see you back here on Blogger. It is always a treat reading your original and complex poems.

    "and paula groveled her greasy coins for the salvation of neon seduction-" - Superb!

    ReplyDelete
  3. marvelously twisty...
    I have been thinking of another colour I might suggest as well, even though I like yours mightily... and still am thinking
    always like to drop in here and see you ply your craft.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Very bold writing! Needs courage of conviction!
    Thanks for not compromising on Art form.

    ReplyDelete

Yes?