phreakie-loser

i will meet you at Lehr's Motel under the motel sign, "hot water cold running air conditioned tv." we will dress as ravens wings, stand fiingertip to fingertip, and blow away, words floating off a page, our feet dangling in sky. i will meet you after we have  drifted like two dandilions lifted among Ten thousand more bronze seeds dry twisting in a breeze, each scrambling for sweet earth each holding dreamlessness.     They blossom into boredom     to sip the last drops of rain.     hacking up green plegm     biting their leaves,     and blaming aphids.     cracking their stems,     into withered spines.