my bike is not a poem
but imagine a painting
your best
and favorite
the memories while painting it
the greatest
each stroke of the brush
each stroke of precision luck
is with you
over and over
and it follows you
carries you
all through it all
each night collecting on the canvas
only you can see
she's out there
and i've ignored her for ages now
she's new
new jugs and all
she's still a little loose in the ass end
but we'll straighten that out
i need to shove a little alcohol down her throat
and tickle her with some juice
i truely miss her
and myself
Nat Z. Punx
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-i-really-think-of-virginia/
