Nothing was wound more tight then a bright gold bracelet on a Saturday night
Unless it was you back up against walls, trees, homes, any thing tall that made a climb
Seem somewhat impervious to trips to the market to buy oranges and cleaning ware because your bathroom was such a mess and lord knows when granny comes to town you can’t be caught with your knickers or a dirty toilet seat down, that ain’t no way to show any sort of disrespect your elders whose socks limp so close on their ankles, a wretched memory of elastic bands and frands and remarkable cotton strands, but you know that song plays in the distance of your head, that melody that itches your neck so you sit around swatting flies made of black holed thoughts that don’t exactly go where we think they will go but to assume steven hawking thought this a bit more through yet when he entered that other side he knew there was no way to pass that book through since paper and ink fly through night sky only landing upon each other like dragonfly lovers


~ by ambur on August 12, 2010.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: