Wednesday, July 15, 2009

summer flight

Tell me it is time


to move
to ride


i am hot

for the final summer ride
mount our white steeds

illustrated with teenaged Heavy Metal

and long

and ache our way

back east
to the sweaty palm of the lower east side
and feel the walls shake of foot stomping house
to smell cocaine and swallow cool mimosa

lets roll
one last hurrah
and then hang up our cups
and return to earth

the night
opening a yellow cab door
spilling in and out all night like loose jelly bellies
laughing to the edge of every bar
colliding like lips to a glass
and then like a dawn that fits in your wallet

we will unfold across the eastern board
like sand falling from a shoe
and when dusk drops like a light curtain call on edges of miami
we will ride into town
there are few who can make this journey
we will break open the night with the fine edges of our wit and the keen control of our hearts

wouldn't you want to see how close we could get to the sunset and if we could sit at twilight's table
maybe drink from the night's cup as it overflows with the cool darkness that makes the heat of all of your monday stutter, trip and fall in the alleys of your pleasure
throw it around like pollacks paint, dousing anyone who dares stand near

darker still we swim at the fading edge of days last light
reaching at it with the pleasure and abandon of knowing it will never happen
bathing in the folly and futility of your own life as it passes with same speed as this paltry day
it counts as you count
breathes as you do
but when the day comes that worms eat out your eyes
it will laugh and turn its immortal attention to the next you

will be
trying to dodge the last day