Jan 23, 2008

In the Meantime

Any Jill or Linda
bought frozen food, waited in the swish of bar-codes.
Gremlin fingers tickled the whatzis,
the where that couldn't be scratched here.

Sandalwood, vanilla, mozied through the blinds,
radios talked to geraniums. The Focus
ticked, its clean womb rifled of goods,
asleep and happy with itself.

Any Joan or Debra,
slippery in the bathwater, bead-oily,
sagged efficiently. Under a moon
that leaned forward like a drunken C

Patches or Princess yawned
and shook its chain.
Fireflies so
superfluously flickered no one noticed.

The mutter of palaver that meant something
hummed across mahogany, vibrations
with a message. Any Josh or Ashley
would surely unravel

those soft articulations--
but in the meantime
pressed their powered dollies in the guts
and heard the words.