mental flotsam and blatantly bad poetry


Van Halen Fever

February 22, 2007

"Yeah, we're runnin' a little bit hot tonight."

lethargy increasing as the sun sinks deeper behind the mountains
more than fatigue, my head swims

"I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off."

a table requests more bread and butter and I scramble up and down the stairs to fulfill the order
an electric guitar snarls while the bass and drums pound away
at least five minutes pass before I finally return to the banquet
it's like being caught in a time warp, rushing around to get nowhere

"I reach down between my legs ..."

a sudden awareness of the body deep within clothes
anticipation about a man who could spend the night at my side
thinking ahead to Friday night with excitement

"...ease the seat back ..."

riding on the back of his motorcycle into the hot night, long hair flying in the wind

"Panama! Panama-ha!"

 


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