You pick up steam on your heels

I want to go down with you
to the attic where plastic barbells bang.
I want to chain-smoke strontium rods with you
And achieve immunity.
I want to overpower Death with you
and meet God at the high school dance

The sun’s a wound in your bruised fingers.
tears hiss and evaporate from your cheeks

I want to lose actuality confidence with you
and sharpen the dullness dulling my brain
I want to set the record straight with you
and force the image clear.

Break up breakdown,
start the nervous fire,
paralyze transport
while you bounty track the ultimate teacher…
your face shows the strain of too much light,
your eyes crinkle at the mention
of blue diamond fields…

I want to expose premeditation with you
and cut it to ribbons
I want to negate jealous pain with you
give my flesh to you
at every instigation.

And I want to be ready for
your glass blood coming for me
and I want to know
the pure fire that prisms your life.

copyright,  © 1989, 2007 Chris Desjardins pka Chris D.

composed circa 1976-77; originally published in DOUBLE SNAKE BOURBON  

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