Chicano Poet

Friday, July 07, 2006

The Exposed Truth

You sit in my van.
Doomed to the thunder of your thoughts,
my pants crawl inside of you.

The sea puts up its arms
to stop the blows of land,
its knuckles don’t have enough bone.

Your smile splinters like wood,
your thighs toss my face.
I used to live down the street

like the neighbor’s cat
but I can’t do it anymore. Hear it?
Even the sea is singing in my pockets now.


Post a Comment

<< Home