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Puppy tears through the deep powder
like a tractor-puller at the county fair.

my snow pants, Columbia Titanium, ear muffs and thick boots
enable me to not mind one little bit.

running in his wake
I’m laughing all the way….

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I want guacamole and refried beans
    left off my dinner plate

I prefer Special K
    in every scotcheroo

Silk stockings
    must drape across my candled nightstand

I want 400 rpms revving
    my engine’s manifold come daybreak

Henceforth, spider stew
    shall be leached from my intestines

I’d love to see gauzy halos
    atop every world

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electric-blue daisies
scatter across lycra and lace
she shields her eyes
from the morning’s glory

languid sighs contemplate every contour
of her spurious waste
too many years having left her
censured, unmoored

she feigns a coy gesture
removes her chemise
her halleluiah chorus oozes crisp clarity
ill-fitting decorum now unrestrained

exquisite bell-tones of make-believe
sublime realities come true at last
rhapsodies of love
reignite in smoke-purple rooms

By |

Suncatchers blind commuters on the sour streets of New Haven
as frogs croak wildly at 2 AM

Nylons slither down my scrawny legs
in obeisance to gravity

Mother’s glasses sit askew on her aquiline nose
after too many Mai Tai’s in the pre-dawn light

And you wonder why the mechanisms of Wall Street
interest me not in the least?