I'm opening up to the undertow of us pulling away
I'm fishing for a fresh feeling and you're the catch of the day
I'm standing on a stepping stone in your poison pond
And drowning from your fragrance of which I was fond
We're driving with the windows down in winter
Watching cars collide calmly with concrete and splinter
Distant descriptions of decomposition
And corpses come crawling with hopes of contrition
Waking up to the sickening sound of a pipe organ
And the scent of sex on a sunday morning
The procession proceeds past polite passers-by
Earning momentary respect from each earnest eye
Alkaline kisses can't come between kindred lips
Lessons learned over time leave lesser men betwixt
Resignation rarely rears its head in recognition
But buried beneath bluegrass beats a heart we're missing.
~dm
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2 comments:
fishing for a fresh feeling...
standing on a stepping stone...
poison pond...
cars collide calmly...
distant descriptions of decomposition...ectectect.
i adore the fact that theres an alliteration almost in every line.
It is hard to tell what this poem is about though. Its as vague as they come.. but beautiful nonetheless.
I try.
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