A sentence is a thought caught,
enough said, but what was meant by that?
When you scan it with your eyes
I want it to writhe underneath your army boot,
tease and curse you with its sexfulness,
shine with sweat, spit, and call you ignoramus,
because you are.
Yes, Jerry boy,
you are no better than a stick in sunless sand.
When you read the first word,
and assume the end
this sentence sticks a hot acupuncture needle
long enough to reach your cozy tucked-in brain.
When you read, you should be tumbling
up and down,
your heartbeat rolls the digits like a dealer crisp cards,
your eyes wide with amazement when you start picturing
all the possibilities of this, single, win,
please God, just this once,
I’ll make it up to you,
I’ll go to the church and go to the AAs,
because I am a mess,
I’ll buy her flowers and stop by her grave more often,
I’ll by my kid a new edition toy, and I’ll repaint the charred kitchen walls,
I’ll share, I’ll give a donation to Uncle Danny’s little poor witless boy,
Oh, I will,
I will !
Your body heath is now equal to a cremation furnace
either empty or full,
your head, about to explode
because of the annoyance.
Nothing is happening, Jerry.
Did you notice anything?
A sign from above?
Did the wind come by to cheer you up?
Or sweet smell of homemade food?
Or buzz of a phone or a pool of laughter?
No, it’s that thing again.
It’s driving you insane.
Its foot stuck in the doorway,
the snug smile,
simply begging for a slap.
What was that?
What did she mean by all that?