Summer 2009 II

 
 
Life in the click of a locking door—
 
Cold static bliss in the bereavement of meaning,
 
Bidding farewell to the moment, embarking on eternity
 
Naked and eating potato chips,
 
Pushing past salt-swollen lips in blue light in one of suburbia’s
 
Lost rooms,
 
       Polished off with Spanish olives.  You’ll eat from this jar
 
            ‘Till you sleep.
 
Pimiento e n ded
 
                  G r e e n