Slime Soaked Windows

Unpublished pieces

These slime-soaked windows
will not show the
power cords that
                 glitter like wilderness in the cold.
No music playing.
No currency spent.
  Bouncing like pennies on
                                 the train track
                                                      the train
                                                       has rolled by.
Windows trap images
                                 of every face
                                that has been pressed
                                                  upon them.
You are one of those faces.
I can still feel your
                 inhibitions circling me
                                        like Ontario snowstorms.
Rolling papers and weed
                 are your selected religion.
One you pray to like a
                            pagan prancing
                                       around a feather.
When I touch you,
                    I only feel
                                         escape and


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