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Soaps At Noon
Folder:
2005 Hot metal auburn swims
Under dark and dirty brass
Calluses my finger
Is the emotion I cover in few sentences
Just under my skin.
Covering a band-aid on my flushed to touch finger
I’ll make it my bet to win
You’ll never see this fingertip scar.
Smelling my sarcasm
That I use to convince myself
This mouth is smelling awfully iron padlocked.
Oh Nell, such a shortsighted optimist
Never gets the dollars she bets to herself
How great it is to be talking to only my mirror
When time comes to talk about you.
I’ll converse with the city’s lights far above your head
The immediate thing I see
Dancing black hair
From a bird droppings perfect lair
Feelin’ like those shallow teenyboppers
Who approached
A “black haired bowler” too good at his game
To ever flip a card without a cheating grin
You’ll never hear these words that I say
My mind and heart
So completely polka-striped opposites
Yet they make my ‘miart’
The never before made name
To categorize these human betrayals known as
My mind and heart
Almost comically ironic
But my puddle of deviance seems to be on your shoes
And my telepathic tongue-tied adoration
Is stapled to your chest
Your shoelaces taste like envious tomatoes
Your ribs, they feel of bed comfort
It’s when peacocks would stand on their own five feet
Showing beauty they were never to shame
On rooftops they would flock to the window
And tell me all your new soaps
I wanted to hear from the click of your teeth
That should have aired at noon
On my grandmas TV set
Don’t get me wrong
I love you all along
The heart necklace strings of memories
Maybe I should try and stand to hear
Another nail scratching on
These antique chalkboards
Which really aren’t too old
But to think that the kids in ten years
Won’t even know of the chalky mess
On green I called hard cardboard.
Outside of Collier Lanes
We used to throw ice in the summertime.
Probably annoying those who came looking like
A lithium obsessed who forgot his meds
Staring blank
Now I’m the bystander
Looking like a pill popper
Staring blank
While you melt the ice you throw with flirtations.
With girls I cannot say so I’ll give her another name
An innocent one such as Ashley
Which could be of high coincidence of a girl
You actually learned to know
And did you know that when they
Wash hair under showerheads
They all come out looking wet as a dog?
And did you know that when you
Wash hair under showerheads
You come out with straw sewn to a scalp?
To be wet is to have known this real emotion.
Don’t worry, we all grow old
And eventually, wish we could dry faster
With our peach nursing home towels.
All those old talk about politics
Something of “merit awards in governments”
Maybe I will decide to turn to whatever
Skin color I adore.
Cantaloupe, Mandarin, Cherry.
And this will make me delicieux
Because you paint the taste of fruit quite often
In charcoal and pastel.
Oh, all artists are conformingly trying to touch ends with the skies
To the tips of allegory paintbrushes
Nonsensical humor
Oh, the soaps at noon…
