Sunday, May 12, 2013

Brooklyn House Cemetery Figs

It is the summer we wished for...
weather weird for fried chicken,
chalice filled to brim with wicked beer,
caramel salt flats in an iconic debate with
politics and guns sold under loose
regulations with guarantee sure fire to kill.
The honey hives are buzzing with
eminent efficiency
as the fragile china plates clink and clack
in the picnic basket.
We wanted a fresh new start
so we got one.
How about you slip some
blueberries into my mouth,
mush them on my gums with your tongue.
The only true experience worth living through
is Neapolitan pollution inner city infidels
with the correct intel to a fast pace processor.

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