No Books

Spring's cold cuts 

like diametrical ice

a false summer sunrise

and aren't you still frigid

like a stinging metallic dime in

my pocket with little real value and 

no heat

Jim Morrison said, "The bus gives you a hard on with books in your lap."

No books, I had only a Guns and Roses t-shirt 

and a Tony hawk haircut she always stood up and had to advertise that raven black hair, perfected face paint and her scent, my god her scent...

last night I went deep under a red light

touched her soul from both sides

and I must love her 

for I saw my self, and I told my self

give her your best, she is a barbarian like you not a Roman with raven black magic, not a child of the sea with midnight-colored psyiognomy, not adorned with drizzling jeweled crown

Girls of my dreams are far past midnights and red lights

and spring cuts cold like diametrical ice