From the journal of former Section 9 agent I.B. Coping.
She was crossing the State Line
Carrying covert cargo in her conscience trailer
Accompanied by an undercover Federal Mass Mailer
Looking to avoid a fine;
They went sailing just off some North East Shore
I think it was a secret mission
For there was to be no admission
Of apprehension, crossing into
Her dimension, hot ice blue
Up like a broken game of dice and cups
Just like the jig, the whirligig stops
Unpacking boxes, smuggling labeled contraband
I never saw her face up close, her suspected hand
Was waving like The Morning
The last time I saw Lovely
She was driving, off her meds
Carrying a .gov card, expired it read
Traveling with a dangerous stranger
An intimate of the deep surveillance contra game
I was drawn so close like one of those prisoners
Quartered for stolen dollars, the bonfire flares
Everyone was shouting her name, demanding their shares
Laughing with a knowing smirk she reflected lightly all the empty stares
The last time I saw Lovely
Coming in as she was leaving . . .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 774 times
Written on 2016-02-12 at 00:43
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Seen Lovely?
The last time I saw LovelyShe was crossing the State Line
Carrying covert cargo in her conscience trailer
Accompanied by an undercover Federal Mass Mailer
Looking to avoid a fine;
They went sailing just off some North East Shore
I think it was a secret mission
For there was to be no admission
Of apprehension, crossing into
Her dimension, hot ice blue
Up like a broken game of dice and cups
Just like the jig, the whirligig stops
Unpacking boxes, smuggling labeled contraband
I never saw her face up close, her suspected hand
Was waving like The Morning
The last time I saw Lovely
She was driving, off her meds
Carrying a .gov card, expired it read
Traveling with a dangerous stranger
An intimate of the deep surveillance contra game
I was drawn so close like one of those prisoners
Quartered for stolen dollars, the bonfire flares
Everyone was shouting her name, demanding their shares
Laughing with a knowing smirk she reflected lightly all the empty stares
The last time I saw Lovely
Coming in as she was leaving . . .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 774 times
Written on 2016-02-12 at 00:43
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text