augury doggerel

Thursday, June 06, 2002


My lowercase god, it's summer and I cannot stop watching girls (women, then, fine, and I'm not really dirty or old, but girls, Elvis, girls, stirring drinks and twirling umbrellas). No, that's not it: I can stop looking, or how would I write this? But I cannot stop knowing. They're still there, where I'm almost looking, just off to my left, where their voices topple off the table and roll lightly up to the tip of my boot. But I won't look up. Their coupled chuckles are for each other and not for uncle propped in a corner and smelling the slices of orange they bite. They hummingbird colors I would not taste. Their lips pucker and launch puffs of smoke. I home to home, secretly shifting myself.


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