permission
I forgot
to ask that color

or perhaps
desire cum flippancy was
harder to claim

so I sucked down
what my imagine
could prove

bare and innocent
not marked up with knuckles
truth with no teeth

there is no
agony in the gutteral
cat fight song

a fight after all
is just an
impassioned script

a play with
dramatics and
makeup after all

far beyond center
and/or the core
values held in the tabloids

and you let your
hair down at the
handcuffed moment

I can’t help
this crease
the hard grin

that dress so…
holding my thought
and your hips

thirty eight
is but a number
and it grows on trees

I can’t see the
forest either
blinded by inequity

and fucking hope
e-fucking-ternal
simple enough

© Tom Watters  8/14/07

a pear softens
to ripe meltdown
fingers perch
tentative and hushed
on the airstrip
of something incendiary

please remember to
close cover before striking

mentally tallying
the ascending tooth count
a tempered smile
as I read “xyz”
I breathe in
the squirm, suppress a
jaded laugh at the
blonde gasp

once again
I can persuade
a reading
beneficial and palatable
to a tarnished mirror
such as mine

near sightedness
now that I no longer
allow myself to
look into your eyes.

overtones that divide
in the absence of your
soft alto

all my coarse colors
derive from blunt crayolae
hunted and pecked
from the recollection
of words…

watercolors
those words

lies that you could not tell
have unwrapped those
in my busy lips

© Tom Watters  8/4/07

admittedly
it is hard to read
smoke signals
under voluntarily
blue waters

walks go deeper
in prevailing winds
anaesthetized with
delusion’s shade of gray,
bare feet blistered

you could fry an egg
on the signals
oracles and injuries,
measured sighs
and fortune cookies

and yet

optimism has
coke bottle glasses
thick, distorted
twelve full ounces
of myopic bliss

a heart is but a muscle
it gets stronger with use
a smile becomes
almost sincere eventually.
scars contain allure

accidents happen

sometimes with a smirk

© Tom Watters  7/26/07

her face purrs
sex
and America
teeth,
glory and cars

he wants to
pull all of her in,
hear her temporary song, but
listen for the hymn
written in code

he smiles in her skin
can’t stop racing
over her July legs
drinking those
Vegas sparkler eyes

hard at her scent
forever wanting
more… another taste
can not drench his
memory full

a dream
gets haunted
by the softest
grip,
slyest grin
a slip of a giggle

once lucky hands
run idle
fumbling now
for words

for light

and for release
from what was
brought to the fore
through
her impossible kiss

© Tom Watters  7/17/07