springtime's humid mist...
we all know loss
we know hope,
likewise ideals and words
the lavish internet underscores our aspirations,
yahoo news will ineluctably define the tragicomedies of our era,
and we pray on the bridges of epochs.
gary and jake walk around the park slightly stoned with ginger soda,
and the tiny insects shroud themselves in the coming sunlight.
i want to meet death on the road
in the shade
of an old town
on a somewhat major road
and drive out from the town
into the breeze
somewhere with cherry blossoms or
and fall asleep drunk
with a black pillow clutched
on a hardwood floor
as tough yellow vitamin pills
clutch at my windpipe walls
and lorca comes out of the closet
asks "is he moving",
"no," they will say
just a slight coma.
no, they won't bury me in the frontlawn
or bass pro shops
in springfield missouri
off of battlefield road
in the midst of the springtime,
a lusch tapestry
of green and brown-red
for our dreams and dusty ideals
to creep in through the living room window
like a cat
with a pouncing jingling collar.