GRAVEYARD COFFEEHOUSE - "Giving New Life To Dead Poems"
From drawn shades is burning my eyes
Two maids from Mumbai are banging at the door
Cursing me in five dialects of Hindi
As I wipe cheap wine and desert sand from my eyes
Long enough to see a rumpled red dress and fishnet stockings
Laying crumpled on the floor
Essence of whooped pussy lingering on my tongue
Mocking the succulent filet mignon
We had for dinner taste in my rancid morning trench mouth
My back is burning and my arms and legs scream with soreness
As I hear someone get out of the bathroom shower
And start peeing
Standing up.
Unyielding in vain against all that opposed us
Now I just hear words and music
A sentimental rhythm on the breeze
Here and then gone like Spring without love
A hole in the dream bleeding endlessly
Until dry and empty
Without hope
A white dove flying over the horizon
Never to return
I cling to memories that keep me warm
Through the Winter
Making love in the darkness of sequestered rooms
Her eyes and soft lips
Whispering my name
Waiting to be reborn again
In your arms anew
When the ice thaws and frigid tears evaporate
I can feel once more
The beauty in a kiss
Slow, wet and deep
Dancing every moment
Upon a heart beat
Listening for a sigh.
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