Monday, April 24, 2006

Wire High

And there the blood flows,
Down the groove in the middle of the
Sword of Damocles.
I never fashioned myself to be the
Killing kind
of history major.

Between the coffee
And the humidifier that you
Borrowed from a friend,
There lies a little lunch break.
you can unplug a little,
Take a deeper breath.

The pages can wait
Can write themselves in twelve-point Wingdings
Until you unwind,
Until you recline,
The breath of a girl in the air, and
In her underwear.

But let it slide down,
Feel the energy draining away,
Pull the wires out of your ears,
And know that we are the generation
That taught the world to kill itself
And chew gum
At the same time.


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