Public Places
Sometimes the sun sets sideways
And pushes outdoors all of your hopes,
Like Cinderella is sweeping
Her eyes so beautiful but no one cares,
And her lover comes with candles in his beard
All tide up in nooses for little dreams,
Somnambulant toddlers culled from the waves,
And now they say that they have no backbone,
But even Satan has a backbone,
Even when he is lighter than the clouds
And caracoling the moon,
And the traffic sings his praises and dances
Every which way it can,
As Evan comes down from the uninhabitable
Mountain sideswiping with his brother,
As Sharon is in her little joys and her little stores,
Mopping up with all her eyes,
And I would just like to be as beautiful as her
Shadow
Coming down the mountain trying to make friends
And kiss strangers through the brambles and
Spikenard of my motionless bicycles,
Those things that are too hard to say and which
Most beautiful women would prefer not to
Hold hands with in public places.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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