Sunday, 24 November 2013

Waller Street Minute

Little White Courtesy Car,
Like Carry-On Luggage For The Muddled Class,
Middle Of Solveing The Riddle Of The Road,
Ridding The Ride Of UnDesireable Self-Knowledge,
It Breezes Through The InterSections Like A Fisher-Price Eraser,
Traverseing The Walking Head Easys And Talking Toed Sleuths,
Past The BubbleGum Dumb-Dumbs Sucking For Degree'd Gongles,
ReFlections In The Rear-View Showing Grey Skys And Paved ByGones,
Errors Like Spitting Images Double Their Pleasures,
Rubber Spun Daisy-Chains And Quiet UnComfortableness,
Thoughts Like Pregnancy Buoys And Cigars On The Greener Side Of The Pool,
Algaed Musk From The Open Window In The Attic To Blend With Napthalened Grace,
The Here And Now On Wings Of An Ivory Dove,
Dropping Its Figure's Branch,
For The Keys To The Mansion's ParkWay,
Clipping Their Rings OnTo Rabbit's Feet And Terry-Clothed BoyFriends,
For Those Shopping Bags Full Of Sunday Drives To Laugh,
They Could Keep Laughing,
Drive As They Laugh,
Till The LipStick Gets Pulled Out,
Ready To Pave For The Essence Of Fuel For Another Drive Around,
Ironing Out The Wrinkles From BirthDay Suits,
Pressing The Button To Air Out The Interior,
Adjusting The Mirror For HeadLights And Towering Trucks Up The Sleeve,
InTo That Tunnel For Peripheral Misery,
For Rainy Day Pole-Positions And Yoga Mathematics,
Reigning From Seat-Belted Bliss Like Gypsy Moth Olympians.

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