posse pose

we talked outside the coffee shop

it flowed, and when it didn't flow it showed
and that was alright, silence wasn't that awkward
but tense, sexuality seeping from
unintended double entendres
in a way that might be perverse
in stickboy, meters from the kerr apartments
clay's ancient base o' subversion

(master o’ la menage a trois possibilité)
that scorching hot nelson day
when it seemed global warming was catching up with us

we talked about traveling, the bourgeois passtime
slovakian tourist traps, prague
when i saw her in real life, beyond the blog
white cotton straps baring
summer shoulders, a plain of skin
jittery already, and i ordered iced coffee
robyn's recommendation
a friend at the shop i hadn't expected, at least one

we talked about meeting
under the pretext of art
dates, art therapy

she invited me up to her house
where she reclined on a chair
i didn't know what to call it
it was like a hammock chair
i noticed a book by the bed
recommendations
she's read them all
and what have i read?
what car do i drive?

--*--
lynze wouldn't slap me
finchy, buzzed from AA
rapped with us tonight
we R'n'B'd the vote


i'm still with the luxury of style
the style of unfiltered
the style of reuptake inhibited innocence
the style of saying i'm
"i'm"
to give context
to say i'm not trying to maximize meaning
and personal interpretation
by presenting fragments of poetry
such that anyone can see anything
no, it's me here
saying cigarettes should be free
for a pass



mojito bacardi
alcohol travelogue
i'm an easy loser
thus far


everyone's the one
i approach those foreign faces
with a molotov mixture of love and lust

the church of jesus christ of latter day possibility

i'm not spent on love yet
but i'm close, and it treats me like a druggie
leaves me with contempt, for myself and others
listening intently to aloof blond psychics
in a carolina writing room

listening to the hoochie
who is telling me that girl is trying to get over me
let's not make algebra of it
and reduce it to the smooth equation
of the rough and tumble reality
of the fact that it is simply the void
that is hurting me, in the void
i look for what i had
novelty does not come to me, anymore
novelty is in a carolina vibe
no wonder i crashed off that
so high, so low


i will succumb
as long as i can write
i will succumb
that's why i write
because i succumb

to temptation...;
as if you didn't know;