Tuesday, January 15, 2008



It was BIG, too!
Not huge –
for folks like you,
but to me -
yes, siree!
More than we could ever fill
And I was thrilled,
so thrilled that we
had to agree to. . .

Tip-toe, tip-toe gingerly
around his-story
in order to be.. .

divest myself urgently
of all that delineated me
shave head clean, for sure
change of nomenclature,
kill that mother twang,
forget all the latest slang
purify my very skin
from the likes of kith and kin,
ropa nueva was the price
acceptance of another Christ.

And it was clean
And so so green,
the kind you see
in fantasy
and envy’s eyes
And spot-out free.

And Yet . . .

Almost instantly,
engulfing me,
enclosing mean Sargasso slime
pilfering rhythm and rhyme
force-feeding frenzy
gurgling gutter- a- lly.
Such indecent brevity
luna de miel sin honeybee.

A thousand sneers
grubby hands dart and dare
to sully this
unforced pair
of wistful bliss.
Mango pulp lips,
To caress and kiss.
And finally to slip
juicy ripened joyousness
onto warm expectant tongue.
Waiting too damn long. . .

But not raped uncut
from milky teat,
wasted life
on darkened street.
Rough shod in charge
on gutted stones –
with bruising,
unforgiving tones.

Tip-toe tip-toe silently
Even surreptitiously
Around, about, and in-between,
Safe from Mr Squeaky Clean.
No shut eye, no rock-back rest
No put’ em up, no lean-back fest
Must see the risen sun.

So I
had to just
up and run.
No backward gaze.
No time to laze
No shoes, no cardigan,
and such.
No contact lens, no keys, no watch
Under the gun,
Just had to run.

Until I
could breathe the air
of just one damn day without fear.
In country lane
And fluted panes
of tender scenes
and evergreen
where fairy queen
and lovers preen

Isn’t it fun-ny
how ‘tread carefully’
when. . .
at last. . .
you are


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