Saturday Afternoon

-cross section of a saturday afternoon-

the radio sings to me, hears the end of the world
between the stabs of needles and powder,
I have set sail on a river paved south
riding down a little notebook life
of ambiguity and fog.

flying down interstate five, I leave my life
to the ice pick tongues of dead men,
packs and bags, deadweights and deadwants,
crumbling into a sea of diamonds

and blinking out like last year's christmas bulbs


write me a letter sometime
when I'm in that cubicle of infinity,
that desert life of dry tongues
and powdered words,

when I've become an afterthought
a home lost in the hills
of ambiguity and fog.

the radio sings to me,

catch me, oh spiral arm of galaxy.

Poetry by Charlie fan
Read 521 times
Written on 2006-03-14 at 18:13

Tags Wanderlust  Desperation  Weekend 

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