Sunday, September 29, 2013

Slow Joy

A consuming feeling of torpor satisfies the imagination.
It traps you into permanence by holding your neck
in a manner that eliminates your need for legs.
It absolves you of your ineptitude so a smooth feeling
can take over and help you remain pliant during conflicts.
I’ll swirl into your life and groove to your mind. Please remember:
it's only chemicals making decisions for your hips. Lucky for us,
clouds make a grand beverage. She was, like, the perfect guy.
Night dangles pink before us. It surges into the room with a final flash
and then it’s gone, and night. I'm not sure what to do
with the rest of my time here. I watched a man feed sliced deli ham
to pigeons in the park. That’s something to think about.


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