Author Information
Slime Soaked Windows
Folder:
Unpublished pieces
These slime-soaked windows
will not show the
power cords that
glitter like wilderness in the cold.
No music playing.
No currency spent.
Bouncing like pennies on
the train track
after
the train
has rolled by.
Windows trap images
of every face
that has been pressed
upon them.
You are one of those faces.
I can still feel your
inhibitions circling me
like Ontario snowstorms.
Rolling papers and weed
are your selected religion.
One you pray to like a
pagan prancing
around a feather.
When I touch you,
I only feel
escape and
disillusionment.
