Mouth
Your sweet mouth is the other side of velvet
And it turns in sweet circles like innocent fingers
Around adoring eyes like crabs that claw at the sky
Of stellar sweet secrets
Of sparkling drunken hopes that fall through rows of perfect teeth
Of cheeks round like dreams about sailboats and milkshakes
That surround a honeyed mouth of sex in autumn
Elliptical patterns of a perfect mouth that smiles like children's hands and
Aries
And rhymes and reason and right and terrible neglect
The other side of a deep pink velvet that says
No
And the tongue peaks and lips part and skew
And I can hardly look in your eyes anymore Yellow Lights Sing Songs to The Hudson Shores In Nyack, off the Hudson
The streetlights shine yellow
At three in the morning
On a Sunday
And they change all the faces,
The old men,
The young girls,
The mingling of drunks and the softhearted
On itinerant corners, and
The homeless man on the curb
Who has been waiting for years
Whatever the rest of us were promised,
These faces are moved
Smoothed into
Something murky
And vital and lovely
That has nothing to do
With the parts of our lives
We spend away from street corners
Or railroad tracks
Or poorly lit diners
Wondering if it will always be surreal
And monstrous
And perfect.
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