Saturday, March 19, 2011

A Stream Distracted

Fatally attracted to her,
Drawn like a magnetic force
Tugging me across the floor
With complete disregard for
Any host which occupied the
Space the shortest line would take us,
Blanche and bored, spiral and ignored
The magnitude of a marching band,
Is contained not within the song, but
In the syncopation of the feet and arms,
Gyrating little shy girl pouting upon the safest
Place in her house, porch bound, never could grasp a read,
Never caught a glance at those eye while the auburn caressed the lid,

Stream, sputter, stream…streaming stopped,
Too hard to think,
Impossible to focus,
Assailing me over my shoulder,
Without thoughts man’s future, at least mine, grows much colder,

On the cusp, and a cup of tea,
Yes, the vanilla chai, that is fine,
Gaining ground, getting close,
Almost there, Just barely from

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