No. 9

Summer 2005

Now sky is a grapefruit in the trees,
it’s unfortunate.
Somebody’s gauds and baubles itch.
The old lady’s earlobes
were dragged down by heavy
costume earring clips.

If you say, “Maxfield Parrish,”
she’ll grease you up.
If you say that again,
she’ll grease you up,
channel swimmers.
Then your head will stink.
Because she’s the wanderer.

Bad things happen in chunky cottages.
There are exercise machines
in empty bedrooms
and the sadness of athletic shoes,
dear ladies on the downtown bus.
Some of you have lardy doubles
bobbing towards France.

Another one has an itchy bead
in a hard to reach place.
He has a pouch of dry wafers
and would like to put the world
in people’s mouths
before their lips collapse.
Our icy footing is tenuous.

Copyright 2005, David Blair

nidus is an online publication supported by the Writing Program at the University of Pittsburgh's English Department.