Woke Up From A fake sleep

October 20, 2010
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God’s got you on
Your toes again, son.
Sneaker swoosh,
First-time banker, hand check
On a school bus,
First-time inside
Of her;
Natural, like
Madonna’s baby boy
In a crack den,
Quarantine, confession
Booth and open ears.
What a drag, man.
So bold and screeching
We had to be the polygraph,
Had to be the hanging chins,
The hipster smoke rings,
Had to be the contra tenor rudiment
On the priest’s smirking fingertips.
Coca-cola’s holy water,
Lukewarm swim to save a soul.
Don’t lie, son, it gets nasty.

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SarahWaters This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 20, 2011 at 5:35 pm
Beautiful words, but I can't figure out what it's all about.
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