5963. I LIKE TO WRITE

I LIKE TO WRITE

I like to write in an abstract mean, doing things

that weren't meant to be : have YOU make the leap,

for me, between the corner and the edge, between the

color and the ledge, between the hammer and the sledge.

See now? Do, do you, do you? Oh Madison, oh Bryant,

any featured park you'd like  -  the drug guys still stalk

and the police are yet impolite. But I like to write.

-

In an abstract mean, one meaning nothing at all, painting a

canvas of words like O'Hara, mixing a palette of hell

like Seidel, going places faster than, oh, whatever.

My definitions are folded over, and I have found the

wormhole  -  they call it  -  where Time comes back 

upon itself and brings us the shortcut between ages.

-

Doing things that weren't meant to be? Annie Oakley,

you, and me  -  that makes three. My red shed hides the

yellow barn. The light is out in the canyon again. I

learned my lesson the last time through. Wasn't that

with you? I love your pink, folded skin.