LEGAL ALIEN
If life is perfect poetry, then why can't I write a poem?
If shooting pool becomes a dual duel
between god and the devil
and you are no longer involved
it makes me smack the balls harder in frustration
but the balls go in when destined.

When the cabs go on strike and they won't stop
I feel like a bowling ball looking at her pins
forced to walk
and if I look too long at her legs
I am stuck
but it is raining and I ain't straining over no bridge this time
I'm tired, I'm drunk, shouting at cabs in the gutter
how I got stood up by two girls tonight
but in my eye there's a glimmer and
in my house a web with no spider.

I have shot the moon, tum, womb, run
shot the sun, put wings (angels) over arms
pulled out my eyes to see like prophet
mute like absent muse and talk sideways
inhaling fumes exhaling truth like oracle,
and yet I am speechless...

All the addictions for the woman that is not there,
and then they won't be with me
until my ghosts leave my bone
I'm told I am a man but I am broke
unplugged the clock
won't work for no one
the cracked picture frame of why she only teased me
when she knew I'd find out some day
that she thought the world of me
the freedom I gave her the freedom
she gave me identity.

I wanted to write of the beautiful places I've seen
but I merely want to see through her eye
for hell is dark and stinks and rots
stealing bone and diadem
at least I am no one so no one knows
what I've done
I am a legal alien.