More Subway Poetry

So Far

I wanna bop to a walking Bass

Like the beats

Meet between the sheets

With my best friend and his wife

Like back

When the world was Kerouac-ed

Sing swing daddy-o

Back when Jack was short

For John and had nothing to do

With Car or Lo

Or Hi

My muse spies me

And hides

Loves to fuck with me

When my hands are busy but my ADD

Has my mind free to be captured

My arm wrapped around

A silver pole in a hole moving fast past

Darkness streaked with red, white, yellow

and green

Pleading men proliferate around paydays

Dragging a wagon of sandwiches

Along well worn linoleum floors

My pockets are full of space but

At least I hold the door for him

As he moves

Between cars and tells his story walking

Like a Bass the beats used to bop to

Next stop to

Work like a working class

Jerk

Slow and steady along the shaft

My raft in a pool of forever-ness

My hands still operate on the principle

Of pleasure and for that I am

Blessed

as in gratefull, dig?

I f I could only some way touch you

Some way penetrate the masquerade

Dress down like the prince of shades

With jade for my tongue

Sapphires

Rubies

Diamonds for my eyes (or pearls)

or

Joo-joo bs

Popcorn; chocolate covered pretzels; twizlers

I want to bop till I drop

To a walking Bass

And a Saxophone

Blowing solo alone

As I speak my tome about burning Rome

Hey muse, see you at home