Residual
wafting through the rafters
or through the cracked door window
it is sent ashamedly
yet at the show last night
they passed it freely
like conversation
and better than
a simple
handshake
the music was mellow
the lavatories scarce and
the beers and hot dogs
plenty
it helps to flow
relax and perhaps
make lovely lapses of
thought
judgment
time and bide
such trivial endeavors
i remember the girl with the
tattoo of the orange sun
and blue waves
on the tramp stamp
who was the one who
introduced me to ways of
Sappho
(and her lez roomie)
who let me know how
sweet
the buddha tasted when
from a fingertip staring
at the fishtank
and wondering if the tat
would heal after the hot tub
at Catalina Island
when the blond
used all the hot water
taking a sexy shower
with her
2 hour
boyfriend
Still
we strive past that to almost
midnight on a year that
reminds me of the rest
just with less
punctuation remains in the inane
and when I am alone with you
I feel like I want to die all over again
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