You said the trees were vomiting
but I said no, it's their dandruff
that gathers on the shoulder of this barren
sticky and soft and smelling of
rancid olive oil.
I wanted to kiss you but instead tried to kill you:
at one hundred thirty miles an hour
the passing cars smear the blurred branchless trees
smearing us across the road, across this sun-seared countryside -
we almost put out that sun -
And when your bandanna flew out the sunroof
I simply turned the music higher.
I'd gladly trade my Oreos for yours.
We'll twist them together, you take the heads,
I'll take the tails, and you can go ahead
And lick the creme - don't worry, I'll get more.
We'll eat a box together in July,
The sun bleaching the chlorine from our red
Burnt backs. I didn't listen when you said
You didn't do this sort of thing. But why,
Then, if you worry that you might gain weight,
Or that the cookies slow you in the stretch
Did you offer to participate
In something that we now might both regret?
You should leave now, or you risk being late,
Though we have not stopped swimming yet.
|General information: Jeff Walsh|
Design and HTML: Jase Pittman-Wells
©1995 All Rights Reserved