Sunday, March 13, 2011


He did say (– why’d he say –)
“Thanks for the draft of
my heart” with the
lights out.   I lie down
to close his eyes.

A moment keeps—

Las Vegas is so
where you are with me.
And that’s only the
nub of it;

endorphins and
unexpressed realism.
Feening ain’t all it’s
cracked up to be, huh?

This position—

Hand over eyebrow and
arm over the sun.   Milk it
like the sap you
deftly craft.