slowly chugging
that belching miniature train
of night most midwestern
rolls on can you hear it

i call out to her
in the zigzagging corridor of blue eyes
'tis here that the saturated moon
glows brighter than bourbon

surrendered to sequined waists
of those in love slender salamanders
life preservers her green arms float
toward the fiery vibrations of rollercoasters

our pasts toss about
in a violet funhouse
like an amplified scar
that flags our shoulders

lips back and forth recounted
our pasts have become verses
have become urchins
have become ufo's

-- 7-13-07, IL