I put my
middle finger
in the
crater of flesh
to taint
your frustration
it is
sometimes intimidation
to owe
me this much
when
jazz plays the night
with
piano keys & gentle trumpet
pulsing
numbing beat
under
warm embraces clinching
to the
orgasm of their cold feet
we have
been here before
we have
seen disappointments
come
& go
like a
burning pendulum
to seek
a homey curriculum
to align
some sensible design
of a
life chained by promises
& a legacy
seldom defined
you let
go
with
stretched out fingers
as the
beat lingers
into
your redundant thirst
for some
singular acceptance
of a
construed experience
hidden in
an oyster of our strife
we let
go
