305 Readings | 2 Ratings

Now She’s Wearing Riding Boots

The more the same pairs of pants
you have in different shades of pastel,

the deeper and more slipshod
your walk-in closet of rabid vexation, lady.

And in a little while we’ll all crack
under the medium of medium,

neutral hue blue used to draw
the crispest river in heaven,

the rainbow trout yawning mid-spawn
and January air the fish just jumped through

barely rippled by its post-breach fadeout.
Too much we’re left lacking the right color,

the panic in the face caused by a charging squirrel,
the scum-covered dandelion fermenting in the jar,

sea spray delivering the knock-knock
punch line to the screaming beachhead.

Orange you glad we dialed up air support?
Orange you glad our savage pixels

are loosed occasionally to stretch their teeth,
a pack of after-hours wolves howling

inside a dying mall’s food court.

Posted 12/12/13
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