The hot club air
hit her like a shotglass of sin.
In minutes her buzz hit chainsaw proportions:
sucking the laughter
back down into her lungs,
she toppled like lumber to the floor--
"So that's where all the vodka went"
ejaculated her date,
slipping a half-hit of acid
under his tongue like nitroglycerin.
The suppressed tremor in his voice
struck it like a stretched spring.
They danced. He led.
From his lips and tongue he bled
truths too cruel to say.
Soon, bewildered by the punk's plumage,
he fled to the graffitied sanctuary
and watched his digestive system
operate backwards.
Soon a looming mass of gristle
booted him into the snow.
"Full circle," he slurred,
which struck him as funny...
His manic laughter,
trapped in concrete cliffs,
echoes imperceptibly hours later
as the steadfast streetcleaner
sweeps the gutters
in the gray, vestigal light of dawn.
Sign
Guestbook.\......
.....
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Guestbook
poem written by JASON PAUL FOX.
You
MUST credit my authorship when reproducing this poem in any way!
Violators are prosecuted, no joke!
I'm living off the generosity of plagiarists now!
(It's OK to give my poem to friends or people at school, if you credit me and
don't make money off it)
copyright
2007 Jason Paul Fox