I
waited for the bus so long—my transfer expired.
When
the bus finally arrived a radicalized youth
chucked
a rock at it (clank!) & it swerved into traffic.
“Young
Man!” I shouted but he glared at me in a way
that
knocked my body out of my body & I witnessed
50
vibrations of my own ruddy countenance before
the
grand lens refocused itself—I walked beneath
the
dirtiest of oaks, the nuttiest of silver clouds.
People
should be playing coital instead of playing coy.
(Who
was that Barbara Streisand character? Coit’l?)
How
does the eye slip a button through a buttonhole?
How
does the eye unzip the zipper, tooth by tooth?
A
nudist can be undressed twice, same as you & you.
There
are two tempers to each person; both are bare.
[NaPoWriMo Interview Sonnet #29.]
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