133

VICTORY LAP

When the independence budget
Is passed and all the psychic
Motherfuckers have left their messages
With their mess, bass guitar indicating
Classic rock's approval, the drunks
Will miraculously be parted, shawls
Of smoke and stains clean as June
Or June's parole sheet anyway

And then, to be a duke
And take stock
Like a championship picture

Like, Ghostbusters: preferable to Stripes?

In the daughtering dirt
Microscopes and randomness
Avail themselves of surprise
Hey-urge

British Telecom or before therapy?
Management style or plaster cast?
Itch that can't be scratched
By the woman who gets in front of me
And walks slower till I have no room
To breathe, are you the minimum of pain
Or just a golden retriever on strike
In a sunny patch of cobblestones?

I feel you continuously

Rehydrating doesn't take you away
Nor do sleep or cutting coffee out
Neither drinking nor keeping dry
Relieve this, neither leaving it alone
Nor licking at the tip make it heal

Condition stretching thirty years ahead