I can hang my tears
out to dry with my eyes open to the flick
of a trick jazz track filled with frozen sounds
beside blue rivers like veins
in an old woman's leg
I can try a bar or two
or Heartaches and let them fall through
my fingers. I can speak
and make my voice taste like
Cheesecake.
I can sing it. I can strip
off its clothes and make it shiver like a child
stepped from a dream at three o'clock in the morning.
It can be colored with cold dew
or it can be played.
It can be collected
shiny stockings, women yelling, "love for sale",
trading fours, calling out, holding
back, stop-time
Things have come a long way;
space ships and moon
walking