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Another in a series of what I call "Second Person" poetry. From the anthology, Scenes From the Cerebellum, a work in progress.

Symbiosis Sitting on that rock Like a suburban mermaid, You look like a lost girl With a long sad story to tell. So honey, why don’t we Mosey on over to Wide-track Town, Where the freeways meet in purgatory; There are singing hipsters there, Dressed in the regalia of the deranged, Sniffing salt through straws, There are ten thousand latex surfers Returning from the dead, Returning from their brief sojourn In the distant backwaters, The yellowish green sulfur waters, That seep into your bare flesh, And send mad biting impulses Straight into your seething soul. Ah, yes! So, how long have you had that… Pardon me honey, but, Is that a bruise on your neck? Or maybe it is the love-bite I recently Gave you, as we rode in the back seat Of a lavender blue 72’ Land Yacht, Spread out fine under a blanket, As Broten, up front, steered us down the long highway, Through a lit-up suburbia, Like a chrome dragon spitting smoke from its butt. Kissing you, honey, is a meal unto itself. Like eating electric spit With a dash of salt! Now is the time, Now is the moment to touch you. If you don’t want me to, I won’t… Sitting on that rock, Just like a seducing mermaid. So, honey, what exactly is your story? Why don’t we mosey on over to Wide-track Town? We can talk incessantly until the stars appear, We can watch the latex surfers find nirvana, And I can give your daring thigh, My thirty-minute love bite.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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