Monday, November 10, 2008

ILLUMINATE to frustrate

My hand in a pocket
I contemplate
throwing my own head
to the rows of pin
bowl with luck
hope to knock them down
before they take you out
or eat into you
that you later have no desire
to reattach yourself.

Spare change
from yesterday
from milk and muffin
from the shop across the street
I could slot into the machine
to produce me a proper device
for gunning inanimate target

I will know in time
to step forward or take a left
when the cable brings to my descend
but now the light on the button shines
its door won't open
I wait; sigh and smile.

It is scorning
or it is being romantic with me
a few more tick of the clock
fix your mind.

An elevator takes you up
on its way down
it picks me up.


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