TUDORIAL
Glass
tower, castle
holding
pattern riveted
to sky,
dominant, cock
like in
which a cohort of courtiers
crunched by
numbers, drunk on work
glances ceiling-ward
as if sixth
century monks
wondering what God is
up to in His
corner office. Down the street
and tucked deeper
than you can take
in between wedges
of sushi and
designer doodads
a delightfully
frigid martini
attached to a girl’s hand
sweats. A bar
of soap smells like sex
and the
squash court is essence of fake musk
a
headhunter’s gooey patter the patois
on toast
today. “You’re toast, sucker.”
Stuck in
the middle of traffic far as the eye
can detect is
red. Green is not the color of money
by the
wayward. Green does not mean Go
at all: get
a new passport, hopscotch over to Mexico
and from
there on to parts less known: that’s what it means.
Better: unless
you have jail in mind don’t do it
bro lest
the chopping block be thy head’s final rest.
Thank you again, Karin and Ken!
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading, Hanna Laura! :-)
ReplyDeleteHow did two such creative people find each other?
ReplyDelete