Slide In

So you’ve spent a year:
sucking from the same pipe,
writing of the blow by blow
and fighting, endless fighting.


Take the staircase to the roof:
ride the silver metal special.
Take a last look over
your toenail of a town, all grey and grainy .

In ante-rooms,
close to god.
They walk with
a dancer’s aloofness.

I un-scroll:    [Tell Me Something New]

Show five fingers,
spread wide.
Slide with feet first
She says.

No pain.
No gain.
Faces wiped clean.
They were well and I was not.

Slide-in for the show:

No more sad times
No more summer afternoons;
in forests full of flies
and the sound of boys in the night.

If I were free, then I’d leave.

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