A tip of the hat. A mark of the dime. A vagrant with a cat.
A Mercedes on fire down the street. Or do the words fall
inherent of their meanings? Or are their meanings shards
of glass and as they fall formless, do they disappear?
Only to cut into the mind and how deeply do they cut?
Does the sight of a woman running from a burning car
last longer than a paragraph on the news?
What am I trying to do? A song without singing.
A duet without words. A cobblestone driveway.
I know my way around this town. Am I a poet
or a linguist. Never trust a linguist he will steal your cat.
Never trust a poet he will pick your pocket.
Why? There is no reason why it is just a truth.
September 