| |
Romance and Futility at the Grid Iron
These feet and hands move with pride
While frozen minds reside in stations
The gurgle of romance catapults
Limp eyes fortunate to be blind
Setting tables, memories on the wing
Eclipsed lung of chain linked usury
Chance on the balcony flips greater pockets still
Silver rings on the oven to match electricity
Now the grid iron flashes through
Beating heat to patronize tongues
The alphabet of spacial sense
Time barricades these permanent exits
|