Swamp Music

                      for that boy, in that band

There’s a tingling riff
somewhere in that second verse
and suddenly I’m

knock-kneed, in that base
line bumping your thump thumping
here, in the corner at the café

where I do my morning steep,
sweeten and sip oh         so         slow

still, a burn on my
tongue – unsassuageable like
that night in the swamplands…

thirsty whiskey eyes,
your fingertips, the chasm
they just wouldn’t jump

steel-string rugged – graze over
these honey-rubbed, dark-rum thighs

for as long as your
conscience allows you to endulge

you could reach the other side
or drop down deep, far from home

Either way there’s no
chance of you landing up right

you ought to just jump
across fast and with purpose.

                 2013 ("Groupies" revised)

Groupies

I’m knock-kneed, in that baseline bumping
your thump thumping
in a musty corner at the café
where I do my morning purge. Steep, sweeten and sip
slow

cinnamon topped foam, hot.
sweet burn on the tongue
like that time when…

I recall your thirsty whiskey eyes, your
fingertips
and the chasm they peeked their toes
over. steel-string rugged and
graze over my johnson&johnson thighs.

I could reach the other side but
I could drop down deep, too deep and far from home. Either way there’s no
landing
upright.

so
jump across, big boy, jump
fast and with purpose.

yogi hangover

happy trail all a ruffle

gin and

            hops and

you and me

still on my tongue. i smile

a little too softly

let my eyes glaze

over with new ideas.

bad idea.

in ceremony i say go,

            bye!

thanks

for letting me watch you

stretch

you

for lessons on one night

stand still (in) the morning rays

dance on your chest

on my shoulder

where you’d soon place your parting words

            so long

take care and

            blessings upon you

let poetry guide you

            may the calm of the yogi wash over

like the chiming of brass bowls

find comfort among the swirling smoke gyres

of sweet incense.

        i would watch you downward dog all

day. half pigeon me to zendom.

 

i could laugh at the way

the moon and the bartender

play tricks on me.

no scent on my pillow

no sorting of silly words

no sifting through

          

this is just 

what i get for diving too deep

            and tipping too little.