Sonavax
errol miller
Curving into the bayou's mossy enclave
a hot cover-girl, the last thing I'll tell her
is goodbye, listen up, my loose lips
in that frantic rowing I will cherish my lost son
and finer dreams and wine, lusting after
the illegitimate maidens at Little Chicago
but who will comfort me then, who
in that foreign land will I know, will
the music be New Age, will God recognize me
romance, I think it was, that drove me on
crossword puzzles and draft beer
I've been very suave and cool at times
in the 50's moonlighting as a Gigolo
tucking me in she is beauty, she is beast
the culprit was the awesome cuts and bruises
I encountered on my way to Paradise, halfway there
imaginary metro molls who stole my nighttime thoughts
darling, I need a Parable to take with me
across the Jordan, off to join a sachet-scented
legion of downed aviators from bombed-out London
tragic in their aborted earthly mission
this is my company, the other
American hand I hold,
the dark lamp of transit
hidden in my soul.
