vapor brawling bitter air with the sweetness
of the last, the lucky
the two winds and I socializing and
carving equivalence
into the surrounding space like
courtship on tree bark
and I'm thinking about the appeal of sparsity
of exodus
The literal stomping of my feet to keep warm
cracks the exchange
into shiny fallen angel feelings
shivering on the concrete steps
barking raspy bittersweetness from what seems like
miles below
Piping for a heat wave
half dreaming with my fingers outstretched and
palpitating on those rarified type keys
it's no wonder that I haven't traveled
This poem was "published" in some issue of wordletting.com a while ago. My only claim to recognition.
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