This man, at a bookstore picks
up Freud for Beginners, I wonder
if mating rituals have changed.
I force laughter into small pickle
jars and let my elbow talk to his.
Outside in moth eaten neon sign.
A new year (apparently) is thrust
onto the traffic’s face. Sweet
(fucking sweet) tea is gulped.
Being not customary for me to
come up with top-ten lists, or
to look at a year gone by.
I fool myself. Poking the near
past and my elbow in uncomfortable
corners. The Nawabs (very bloody
lecherous) wink at motorists. 2007
hiccups and laughs in the meanwhile.
For all us non-believers.
Note: Last post/ poem for the year. New Year greetings etc. Hope the year is bump and trouble free. May you read all those unread books on your shelf.