You know it is deadly,
Composed of gasoline
Burned and unburned;
Passed through a
Catalyst
Unconverted.
(You know it is.)
You know that when you breath
It burns the back of your throat,
Like an unfiltered
Cigarette.
You know all this,
But still it is beautiful
As it splays headlights
Into beams of unholy light;
As it twists around street lamps
Landing gently on the cold
Blacktop,
Smoothing the world with a
Cold, unclean hand.
Friday, January 20, 2017
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Dean
Dean He was called Mean Dean By the school children Mean Dean was the name He Accepted He excelled at the Hot hair cut For any boys who Mis...
-
The trio vs. the pirate-ladyman Recently lis opined that no native Utard remembers Lighthouse 20, the kid show that was broadcast on UHF cha...
-
A flute Some woodwinds An announcer A fifteen year old Pianist What is
-
Cooking a Poem Is it cooking or baking? Baking, of course relies On mixing ingredients One By One (by two by thr...