Syllabus

Leaning with my tousled
head the morning like
a gin cloud

my girl speaks in alphabets
her voice a tainted angel
loud

A tinsel tack with money
back the dealers out of town
and were riding 6B junction
down to the suicide corner
out of town

all of the plans arise and
fall sound of tenant television
in the halls

shes wearing day old Bergamot
the paisley shirt
the tired skirt

the hot expanse of morning
sun glints off chrome

like a stomach held snub
nosed instigator
like a smooth talking
laid back hip persuader

and the undulations
through street names
churning
like the black top
girls
texting
and the boys in the
back flexing

we are riding
riding
riding

going now where
from nothing

drifting on the Syllabus
cause we love
to move

the wave in us.........