i. it's so nice to lie among the living
my stirring, buried in triplicate in your broken zipper,
died a little that day, awkward of the rustic chrome,
and patiently exploding with an bronzed innuendo of why:
it was, as science says, a matter of degrees,
but mostly in a purple mist of irony, captive
in view of the violent fruit to come
I would have been a fool, then, to disagree.
ii. to wait for blueberries and skid into view on a falsely tiled floor is a cherished pleasure to some
then I saw you exiting the melodious factory,
the bronze chimes in a metallic haste towards
your felonious smile and your poisonous pocket bulged
with the ribbed beige cartridges from a sinister east,
the left-handed chimes in a hoison haste
so immaculately born of harmonious boredom:
you agreed I was a fool to disagree.
iii. before the glorious separation devolved to pearly worship
I'd be lying if I said that I did not look down
when we circuited the alabaster dome outside
the echo chamber of black gates and whiteness
where sounds were ok, maybe just a faint gray voice
that was, if not professorially golden,
at least annoying to an erudite degree.
adding the swirls of rainbow sherbet helps
because green and orange and lemon matter
almost all the of time:
of that I know that you agree.
iv. then, bang! zoom!
anti-abstruse ranting in a pink and vehement form,
actually more abstruse and certainly less tame
than the sprouting seed from which it came:
after I had taken my time to target the moon,
should I take the time, now,
to re-explain my explanation?
and would you, ever, agree?