I'm in straps tonight.
Guardian of the West Pole sherrifing the town.
Punting garden gnomes 'long the avenue.
Watch them shred through bridal gowns.

A sign on a streetlight pole reads
"Everywhere For Rent"
Sewn and dusted fields of gold
given up for lent.
Hands in pocket, eyes in snow
chewing through a name like a song.
But that's really all initials are, though--
they're initial.

You, elaborate once.
Straps and strings are stripped.
Frays and dangles stationed poolside
waiting like a ship.
Tan lines left from rings on fingers
typing on your hips.

These boots were made for walking on water.

I saw you leap with fingers pinching your nose
everything else flying.
No lack of confidence, save your eyes closed.
Take the pool with you.

Last time I'm ever thorned by an invitation
are famous last words.
It's not my fault, I know it's my decision
but it's not my time
to break below the surface of attention
and lose my skin.
Your face breaks the plane, turns to me in patience.
Where have you been?

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