PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

perhaps I was twenty-six
she looked me over and soon enough the walk to her place was zip, zap, zoop; meaning,
although the barman called me over to tell me she had recently stabbed or had tried to stab a bartender from down the street,

my only concern was another mandrax, a joint of kashmir hashish with thick opium streaks and, most certainly, a new escape; a new woman

the floor (a penthouse apartment, mind you):
much water from an overflowing
sink...much dust on dishes of the dish rack...four or five
frightening knives, all very reachable

then, she introduces me to her first jumping up and down episode--hollering, "you're my
father! I must kill you!"

how I spent two or was it three days with her, dumbfounds me these days...the fool, me, I remember, first, turned off the water and mopped dry the floor...the miracle of how my hand awoke and grabbed her wrist, with the blade's tip an inch from my heart, will have to wait another session with Harmony--that She may reach into my mind and pull out a more clear version of the epilogue of this is-it-a-poem which I've written in numerous other versions over the years
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..(C) 2011 Spiros Zafiris
..channeled; spirit Harmony
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