Paleohippie

Addicted

Chocolate to morphine. Acid to ecstasy.

I could jones on you forever.

Your taste on my tongue.

Sure, at times we trade tit-for-tat.

Give or take. But ultimately

both of us get taken away.

You say, Pay attention to my clock.

It’s on Tibetan Tantric Be-Here-Now time.

But what I hear are the crazed

bees of electricity

humming in the wires

& the sweet drawl lisp of your voice.

Love’s a dented circle

pierced with arrows. I bring you

a heart of rough-cut alabaster.

Take my anger & polish it

to a sheen where at last

my own scuffed self can be seen.

Time to dance, I shout

Hooping & hoofing it while we can.

Give me a hand, darling,

Let’s do a Tarentella Napoletana

under the slickrock black of our Anasazi sky

looking south to Lone Cone.

Once more I’ll ignore the stars to stare

into the polished juniperberry

blue of your eyes.

Glazed. Longing. Hungry for

the grip of the other. So here now

we’re gone.

Capt. Barefoot Broadside                                          Union of Street Poets

Vincent St. John Local / Colorado Plateau / Aztlán

 Kuksu Brigade (Ret.) / San Francisco

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