come crying to me
& tell me
what it is that's holding you back.
& i'll tell you to chuck it
right true da window.
cuz one of these days
you're gonna go
right true da window
if you don't.

suppose a snail said
he never truly lived
because his house
weighed him down.
it's quite a shame
that he never heard
you'll never truly live
until you're naked
& homeless.

a snail's no more
than a slug with a shell
& he'll never amount to anything
until he admits that.

out with the old/
in with the new.
sometimes it should be
"out with the new", too.
like new junk mail.

not a big advocate of
junk mail. new or old.
squares and ovals
might as well be
boxes of barnacles
covering your floor.
there's no way
better for wasting time.
life's better in big slices.
eat it up.
nay; devour it.

you'll never get another
chance like that again.
count your losses
while they're counting
our heads
going off in pairs
around the corner,
seduced by the neon lights.

but seduction is only
as effective
as the desire is strong.
that is why there are
slices of blank checks
laying in dashingly
random locations-
to intrigue you.

but is anything
more intriguing
than watching fireworks
in your pajamas?
you'll regret letting fireworks
wear your pajamas
when they're returned to you
drenched in the lonely stench of sulfur.

but is anything
more lonely
than playing both
sides of the board?
checkmate.
when you play alone
you have to lose to win.

you winner, you.
winners do make fine
subjects for art.
so, i'd like to paint you.

not a portrait of you.
i'd like to paint you,

personally.

head to toe.

i'd like to.

green blue
orange red
fuschia
or however the
hell you spell it.
nonetheless it's
a sizzling array of color!

my masterpiece.

but, maybe for now
a sketch of you
will have to do.
black & white only.
a mere pencil drawing.
because, (let's be real)
who of us
has time to paint?