Lone Figure Wandering

Lone Figure Wandering

so this

breezy character

a lone figure wandering

is indeed condescending

trampled over my T-Rex

records & my brittle bones

w/ demands to be indulged

& adored in a tenor that

verges on preachy

            imagine

harrowing chic flashing

a half smile in oppressive

light prowling backstage

through a cluttered green

room in pursuit of a tawdry

interlude

            if I were

to paint it the scene would

be a collection of agitated

brushstrokes or big blots of

ominous tints to aptly depict

            antagonistic intent

simmering tensions rise &

my gaze becomes unmoving

& hard

watching

wrong-headed

sharp cheeks &

teased out tresses blow brass

horns & pluck delicate harps

believing it will elicit a steady

magic but I’ve already heard

the plum notes

played by someone

mesmeric one jet black night

not so long ago

                        it is impossible

to strive for constant

perfection &

not be muzzled by indifference

            if I were

to sit down & write about this in

detail

I’d squeeze out a parable

that’d require your full attention

& alongside

my countless estimations

I          

wouldn’t shy away from saying

those tassels were too distracting

for an equivocal vagrant to be

twirling in everyone’s face but

never mention my own stockings

& pointed shoes

***

Moral?

Here’s a hint, it’s got a little something to do with judgement. 

Take from it what you will, artistic heart.

In propinquity,

Nic