|
music: Tocatta & Fugue in Dmin by Antonio Vivaldi |
|
Summer Symphony BEACH CAFE
Beach life starts out lotion down the slant of the back, and slides into hot pants going beyond to the trance, the heart of a story lurking in the tide of folks to come. New faces in the juke jive fuse with the missing, coarse, ill-tempered, back from bad nights and hangovers.
The same love, out for itself, survives the crusty scene, a mosh with teen divorcées, high on live brass and tungsten feet multiplied on frozen statues, babes losing it, misters and mistresses caught wild in freeze frame.
Up front, they want to pat it down, disarm it as it enters. Spot the one who’s always at fault, or does something, forcing his way, pushing a vague problem onto the floor, one lone figure clueless for a mate, his motives throbbing. Bouncers watch him, wait for his heart-skip assault.
They eye another face, that slim girl in blue strobe reality. All man underneath, but she can make herself be anyone. And there’s an all-too-quiet God T-shirt guy. Look at his stuffed olive eyes, and sketchy beard, he could spaz, stalking too many pale horses.
Tragedy and trivia, a space junk swirl, it’s a pizza top world falling together, somehow. It reminds me of you, your glowing edge, a razor in the war against a boring travesty.
Tinted glass disguises what you feel, no clue what might be strange in the air. You found me hanging at the back of my life and worked your way forward, stirring, unrelenting, sweeping over me like a lighthouse far in the night, searching the shadows all the way to lands end.
SKY BLOWN TOMMOROWS
New Hope bent on a sky blown tomorrow Handle bar events with far-flung news, The paperboy views a dog’s day each Day by day, each bite of the cuff, one Seat of the pants job, overthrow rainbow Feel of the wet road, newspaper muscles, Rules of the road left soggy by roadside.
Denizen dogs abide by day, a darkside, Nightfall at curbside as cold stars arise, New hopes bend on sunset glowing, in Late news blow by blows, runaway wind- Torn pages go racing for green yardage. Each day a scourge of lateness carries My personal abuse uphill to be bruised.
All Hope went to my sky blown tuition College kid events with far-out views, The paperboy portrait as a weary dog Day in day out, slipped back in the past, My seat of the pants tattooed by rainbow. Feel of the road, the steering muscles, Rules of fittest made tame by roadways.
Jimmy's poetry table of contents © Jimmy Warner 2000
|
Jimmy
Warner's Wild Moon Transit 
