Sunday, May 16, 2010




we be clubbin'



brenda opens a mouth

and takes a bite

your tongue lays on

the floor of your roof


the sun a small fruit

god holds in its mouth

the juice runs down

and covers the trees


brenda opens up cans

belts out the blues

in the club on the edge

of town it holds onto


the sky is made of blue

air and cloud and sky

and at night you can see

we are lost forever and


brenda burns bras back

in the seventies with

other friends with bras

who are below the sky


as the world was destroyed

we thought to ourselves

we should have seen this

coming and slept less





3 comments:

Karen said...

Hmmm; funny how you so succinctly described the night. Lonely? Or just being Bob?

AndiWritesAgain said...

the sun a small fruit god holds in its mouth the juice runs down and covers the trees...

...

Jackie said...

This is an amazing piece of writing. --Jackie

Followers