Ringing the doorbell at the campus bookstore
A vintage, pull chain contraption
Antiquated, yet still rather expensive
A lot of fine print within the caption
Education is a self-fulfilling myth
When the public library is free
Pay your tuition into the system
It all depends from what lens you wish to see
Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt
Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors
The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul
Lounging early in the morning
She wore an animal print I couldn’t recall
I poured another cup to erase the cobwebs
A chilly morning; slipping past Fall
She was sleek & beautiful, a deadly shade
Overly dramatic in the best possible sense
Passion in abundance for my sole benefit
Edging to a climax at our soul’s expense
Girls with their knee-highs
Haute Couture, exposed at the side
But don’t believe everything you see
Smashed & forgotten; a murdered bride
Money left on the nightstand
A life shouldn’t be thrown away for such
Summer comes to erase memories
But down here, it doesn’t take much
She was already cast out, with her upturned jugs
A novelty for these professional suited men
They’ve wiped away (ass-print) the glass
Like she never happened, what will you do then?
Perhaps I appear confident in print
The paper expands arrogance’s pitch
I can hide behind my words for a stint
Though the return to reality can be a bitch
Captain Q 