Chocolate to morphine. Acid to ecstasy.
I could jones on you forever.
Your taste on my tongue.
Sure, at times we trade tit-for-tat.
Give or take. But ultimately
both of us get taken away.
You say, Pay attention to my clock.
It’s on Tibetan Tantric Be-Here-Now time.
But what I hear are the crazed
bees of electricity
humming in the wires
& the sweet drawl lisp of your voice.
Love’s a dented circle
pierced with arrows. I bring you
a heart of rough-cut alabaster.
Take my anger & polish it
to a sheen where at last
my own scuffed self can be seen.
Time to dance, I shout
Hooping & hoofing it while we can.
Give me a hand, darling,
Let’s do a Tarentella Napoletana
under the slickrock black of our Anasazi sky
looking south to Lone Cone.
Once more I’ll ignore the stars to stare
into the polished juniperberry
blue of your eyes.
Glazed. Longing. Hungry for
the grip of the other. So here now
Capt. Barefoot Broadside Union of Street Poets
Vincent St. John Local / Colorado Plateau / Aztlán
Kuksu Brigade (Ret.) / San Francisco