Tuesday, November 2, 1999

Sports Injury

My mental
slide guitar echoes
its hollow sentiment
and the TVs are sizzling
like everyone’s giant electric pet cricket,
with images unnoticed by mind
yet entrancing to the eyes,
a neighborhoods worth of eyes,
distracting them away from the
approaching line of the
golf course
just peeking over the horizon
like some reverse disease
cursing the body of the land
with an impossibly perfect skin,
turning it into a mannequin,
and all in the name of sport.


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