Thursday, June 08, 2006

Heartburn

Another prototype rolls off the production line
and the condensation of my naked ambition
drips lazily down the windows.

I see all but the shadows of my own soul
falling across the path of my colleagues and comrades.

The stroke of my signature
dances in stupor;
as a thousand trembling fingers
touch a thousand nervous lips.

Bring me your wildest dreams for tasting -
sweet and salt,
the bitterest of bellyaches,
the warmth of urban heartburn.

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