Tuesday, December 25, 2007

noel, no. 3

eddie done the slips, fell with the slides
rocking with the shiver, all blinded in his winter
white

gone, check it off, some list grown short
and slashed, wrack it slowly, pencil finally
finely

edge him into goodwill, dodgy wear-washed
cast-me's, as we laugh against the dollar rack
badly

and try to guess the potions, anxious oily lotions
cremes from overstock, warehoused somewhere by
walgreens

is my eddy, foiled again, skipping breaths once,
twice, cloudy in the afternoon, and he wonders if
he's kissed

alley hopping, hoody thugs slamming hip-hop
miming dead end arias, eying salty eddy under
dread

is our life, was and going to be, our life, over and
again, bouncing on the hedges, tiptoed to the ledges
down

tie it, down, and tightly tie it, for the run, for the
streetly frolicks, and if we lose, or throw it, blow
it

i'm wise, glowing in the disco ball, endless wise
me, making dance, shaking to the ghostey years
forever

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