Burma Shave Stories
The
air you foul
Will
remember you well
You’ll
spend time
Behind
her bars
In
environmental hell
I
wish to whistle
As
the breeze
A
birdsong free to blow
That
exits out the lips with wings
Sonata
expresso
Alert in your drive
Crooning
like a sax
Letting
the phone buzz
Between
your legs
Next
town: Climax
Jagged or straight
Reckless or jammed
The road ahead:
Bent at your will
But not as planned
Before
you bite into a fruit
Remember
how to taste
Don’t
put it in your mouth
Til
its body streams
With
memory, not haste
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