you play with the serious words,
and with sand castles and candelabras,
Twisting the chandelier in repressed rage
and shaking the walls.
You dance, and the words you throw slip their meanings and lodge right...here.
Sanctimonious, you said, and irreverent.
And I listened...and heard of nothing but sea gulls and burning tar.
Seagulls and Washbasins. Nectarines and Floor wax.
I lost it all to the sounds.
The trainwreck of syllables won me completely
and I'll take the consequences
of the sounds of the serious words at your heels.