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Poem


 I woke up this morning between dust and wonder lust
 And I confessed to the screen presence of a prodigy in my monitor
 "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
  I also remember the exact line, often than not
  with her wrinkled skin, or his a bit trembling hand on the steering,
  Here they misunderstand too early
  There is a probability of an unseen Beatrice everywhere, everyway
  And all I understand
  Old people love early
  And the love is gold
  And a parable is paying the dues
  incurring later angels with your electricity bills
  finding bad dark spots on your teen aged girl's skin.
  Who is growing up, on a day, you did, way before
  She hears a boy in response. A SOUND!
  When she said, hi!
  And he roared with his bike! O my! O my!
  The world is loud with breaking the disputed law
  that rings God's Gospell in a spell binder!

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