Friday, November 25, 2011

Killing Time at Make-Out Room

Who knew we'd live long enough to see 
disco reborn as some kind of shimmeringly rare unicorn of 
mane throwing, hoof clicking, tail flapping, glitter eyes shining?
The kids clandestinely OOH'ing and AHH'ing like tykes under the influence
of a mean sugar high and new access to ancient human mythology.
Passing Time, your cruelty is so cold.
Invisible peeler of my onions. Reducer of human meat.
Barely conductive mass of sorrows & glinting pleasures.
From the King's seat, smiling, writhing
to the rhythm, sipping the sweet nectar, and singing along.
Eyes following the fleeing unicorns
pulsating sound waves & candy-flavored cocaine rainbows.

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