Saturday, June 03, 2006

All the guts
Are Americana and flea bites
Sticky human itch and tobacco
Frescoed eyes black and painful
Lusty and rock scared

What is handsome in the Asbury Night?
Not but the salt smell and dateless
And the periwinkle grey and foggy
Writing its own poetry
So what is the girl?

With bar breathe
And loneliness
Hotel party and funeral
And baptism and gallery opening
Pointless and timeless

Biting at fingers
Eyelash batting at strangers
Beer buying for hangers on
Shooting stars flailing desperately
In the salty sweet Asbury night

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