She's almost chemically dogmatic.
She smiles like she wants to cry,
and whispers in my ear.
'Time is music. Time is poison.
Time is a mirror without glass! '
Her eyes swell to the size
of small pancakes.
God, save us from the truths
revealed by funhouse mirrors.
This is the birthright
of all pagans: slow, lingering
sex, fueled by Jose Cuervo,
a Pacific sunset, and
outlandish lies.
The golden trance
of seamless communion.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dazzling-hearts-shivering-mirrors/
