This is a poem about grass, weird huh?
grass green of your fading lawns.
Used to be we fell down, hurtled down
the green, before the greens-so flat
that the wind skated off. The sport
of it, hot sex sweat ecstasy-now just another
story, "Where's the weirdest place you...."
Then rolling in it, the green fast stupid
stumbling and beer and beer-
I smoked it, my trigger finger right on
right on target. The sign says now
Do Not Walk On The Grass, but I tarry
seeing your sweaty face startling green
eyes so intent on seminal suicide, but your
eyes were never grass green (I finally
yell from my sucking swamp of a sand trap)
they were always blue. My fault for
forgetting the sky. Trudging up it, rolling
in it.
© 2006 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 760 times
Written on 2006-10-08 at 04:14
Tags Humour
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Grass
Trudging up it, rolling in it, the green grass,grass green of your fading lawns.
Used to be we fell down, hurtled down
the green, before the greens-so flat
that the wind skated off. The sport
of it, hot sex sweat ecstasy-now just another
story, "Where's the weirdest place you...."
Then rolling in it, the green fast stupid
stumbling and beer and beer-
I smoked it, my trigger finger right on
right on target. The sign says now
Do Not Walk On The Grass, but I tarry
seeing your sweaty face startling green
eyes so intent on seminal suicide, but your
eyes were never grass green (I finally
yell from my sucking swamp of a sand trap)
they were always blue. My fault for
forgetting the sky. Trudging up it, rolling
in it.
© 2006 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 760 times
Written on 2006-10-08 at 04:14
Tags Humour
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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