March 9, 2010

Drunk On Rhyme

I left my home and extinct profession

to walk the empty streets during

those orange


summers


we were alone together and covered

in nicotine patch quilts


singing


frozen marmalade pop songs

and adding color to the high

contrast grey


days


playing jazz and new world sounds

on countertops and garbage

cans we danced like


children


and somehow managed

to touch each others

sweet


spot