The Napkin Kiss (06/29/2011)
Bottle half full, bottle half empty.
The man who associates with bottle lusts,
Desperate for its cool curves in his ever-diminishing grip.
How he yearns,
By the most desperate association in his throat-loans from,
The Goose-Necked apparition.
For the first bitter, warmth of a kiss.
Of a mem'ry.
He drowns, in contempt and temprustness,
TEMPESTRNUNUSS. One Hell,
Of a spoken-word spiral staircase.
The used cars of the beatnick ryhme,
in beatnick time.
A taste of nothing. It's his everything he traded for.
Damaged goods and damaged bads,
Dirty hoods and dreams:
Duct. Tape. Clad.
'Baby, it's not you, it's me.'
'Baby, kiss me one more time.'
Of course, baby.
But my eyes are closed to remember
To warm christmas turtle doves.
Why'd you leave, baby?
A cheap used car salesman.
Selling stitch-open promises,
Seams bursting with regret.
Everybody's got a story to tell to
Pitch to you their lives,
In exchange for a necklace made.
You break your flow,
Remember your long necked,
She's all I want in a world
full of what I need.
For a second, in the dark,
let this work out for me.
Someone, in sincerity,
Lie and say I'm beautiful.