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When it gets green like this in all honesty I hardly know
what to do with myself.

I’ll wander to the 88 bus stop
like a drunkard

scattering footprints like rose petals, running my fingers
along your chainlink fence.

I am envisioning diving into your perennials.
I am laying face-down in your lawn.

I’d like to throw
my face
into the divine leafy bosom of your shrubbery

and go “tthhhppppptttth!”

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 24th, 2009 at 12:25 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.