Conversation At Midnight

Conversation At Midnight


The window was always glued down.
You knew that.
I am sorry about the lump
I left in your throat.
It was the latest joke someone
sent me from another state.

. . . Perhaps you would like to shift
your flippers a bit,
make yourself more pungent than a fist
clinging to the grains of
its last silver collar.

. . . How would I know what kind of rust
coats the inside of my dome?
You were always the expert on the proper
insect retrieval systems,
the necessary buzz tones
to pendulum through the hair.

. . .Don't talk to me like I am some style
of perishable food
and you are the only minimum page burner
around here.
I have all rinds of dirt.
You want to tree some up or what.
Sonar finally brought them through
the last truculent gates.
Why do they bang like that
if they are not yours to keep.
If you want to lease me, go ahead and cry.
You little parking lot.


John Yau

Posted over on Galatea Resurrection 2