Midnight we hear their laughter

Noon we remember their cries

And taste their foreign tears

 

Late afternoon I smelt her in the air

Waves coming over me, pulsating perfume

And taste my youth of trapped dreams

 

Late June the end is near

Beginning July, they all forget and I crawl

August I’m in heat

 

September rain comes the fall

Man slipping off a roof’s edge

As the English sip their tea

 

October I recall

November I don’t thank you for killing my natives

December we get drunk and wonder

Go on to the next promising year

And depression sets on those days

Of holiday wonder we die

 

Midnight we hear their laughter

Noon we remember their cries

And taste their foreign tears

 

Beginning years of January, we stand the bitter cold

February we get lost in love of hallmark and the red zone

Which is not my erogenous zone

 

March we come out and pop and die under sunshine

April glitz and maple gritz

May suck me up

And become an interviewee

Shout

 

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.05.21.16:37:44 @ 1515 nyc