Saturday, May 2, 2009

New Lovers

New Lovers don't have the time to consider
the weird origami of Common Courtesy.

Their cars in way of rush hour
purr back idly at traffic light metamorphosis 
as the commuters in line down the avenue
grow steadily sicker and sicker. 

The belted ones
boil in their leather seats.
They remember what 1982 smells like
and they try to make applause
but their hands stick to the wheel
and their stomaches rip up inside them
and then it seems
The End of the World
is utterly official.
 
New Lovers
with no attention
and Baby Faces
glued together
are Illiterate to the three color vocabulary
mandating the Order of the Universe 
and of the intersection.


But alas
A Savior Appears
Rejoice, Rejoice!
the Passenger in the Buick 
has finally had it.

"Fuck off and Find a Room!" he says

And the Avenue uncoils--
only 12 seconds late for dinner

3 comments:

  1. The belted ones
    boil in their leather seats.
    They remember what 1982 smells like
    and they try to make applause
    but their hands stick to the wheel
    and their stomaches rise up inside them
    and then it seems
    The End of the World
    is utterly official.

    this stanza is burned into my mind

    ReplyDelete
  2. ohhh and how the tones of poems change over time...

    ReplyDelete