by: James Schwartz

Among his most favored night-time toys
Absinthe, liquor and phosphoresce hair frost
Of all my dream lovers and phantom boys
In reality I’m easily lost
Laughing, intoxicated he will baste
Brown bottles of luminous fire-fly
Anointing his head with celestial paste
Of stars liquidated into hair dye
He is always reckless in his passion
Blithely flinging raver clothes on my bed
As if he’s going out of fashion
A passing diversion until he’s dead
Taking, embracing me until we glow
The colorless mornings drift by so slow.

© James Schwartz for Babel: The multilingual, multicultural online journal and community of arts and ideas, 2008. | Permalink | One comment | Add to del.icio.us
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