A Penny And Me

Drop your anchor
and look upwards.
The flecks are flexing
their array of colors.

Wobble with me tonight.
Flood my face
with the pearly beams
of a basket-case.

Embrace that I am sick.
The new handsome is haggard.
I draw whichever eye I like,
though who likes a braggart.

I raise the flag
pale as her cheek,
and likely dissolve it
the very next week.

We lie disturbed
by the empty form,
the animate memory
that keeps us warm.

She warned me, yes,
and I dared to play.
I think of that
every day.

I see the road,
the twisted route.
No wonder men die.
Such abundance of loot.

Though plucked from the panorama,
the effect remains the same.
It will steal your breath
under a brand new name.

To clutch what is closest
is a poor sport.
I split the deck
soon as I left port.

I eat my prophecy
with peaches and cream.
My sickness is nothing
more than a waking wet dream.