The Corsages and Cul-De-Sacs
Slipping into the palmettos like a serpent
Going to see a whore:
Underneath the open wounds of airplanes
Bathing in their two piece swimsuits:
Languishing topside of the astral planes
Using wigi boards to say I love you
To ghosts who try to tell you their names-
Inside a house of diamonds
In the eyes of the crocodile who never smiles
But ticks like a clock, giving fair warning
To prepare the boys for their bar mitzvahs
In the corsages and cul-de-sacs of their
Immortality.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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