Chicano Poet

Tuesday, January 08, 2008


The Alps can shove a glance aside.
An ice axe lingers
on an annoying hand.

I look out the window,
the clouds are heavy baskets
a Swede quotes from memory.

I travel in the company
of my shirt.
What an occupation---to be buttoned on!

I wonder if the train regrets
the straight and narrow?
I lick the window and retreat.

A girl laughs at me
and then her laugh turns into a smile.
Hey, have you ever seen a smile die and decay?


Post a Comment

<< Home