4 by 5
Tue, 18 Dec 2007 at 07:34am
untitled
Progress pays no attention
to the harsh birdcall of our big splash
to the early concept of half-past two, or
in big crowds of bearded hoodheads.
It's too late to savor any thought,
but maybe the test is surging
no pining for dirty hair under a stucco ceiling
lovely history projected in sepia-splashed mind movies instead.
There could be more to this but I'm smart enough to think twice
tip-toeing the fine line in alcoholic content,
hard enough to take the sober seriously in fake promises
I'll sway to the beat as you lead the night.
Parliaments cling to your breath still lingering, you'd
inhale typicality, exhale indie boy extraordinaire.
Sleazed in past whisperings, let-downs, give-ups.
An end of a beginning played by ear.
Pronounced like it looks; simply with soft eyes, you brushed some pride on me.
I've since accepted winos according to the Cheatwood Act of '04
and it looks promising to say the least.
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