Don’t Mind the Abrasions

This is a revised edition of a perviously [ sic – I think this incorrect spelling is an official Freudian slip]  posted poem I wrote while living in Portland, Oregon. It was inspired by the downtown folks there, and by a secret crush I had on a woman who didn’t know me.



Don’t Mind the Abrasions

There’s unpolluted fantasy in my head

And the world keeps peering in


It abrades my skull with perfected hubris

Hoping to see some tender, strife-free crannies inside

But just as my sanctuary is glimpsed

The world tears me wide open

Pumping its contamination in


You should ride downtown on vintage green bicycle

And join me posing undead on warm wrinkled pavement


I relish when you dig my splinters free

Pour the hydrogen peroxide on

Then patch me up again


We should walk with a limp and moan violently

For there’s nothing better than unwanted street theater


I’ll bleed from worldly abrasions

As you hang your head heavily to distort spine


We’ll gain priceless satisfaction from those who park their asses

To eat their lunches

On soiled park benches


While the sun mother sets

We’ll build a firewall of delight in my head

Watch the unending metal traffic inch by tip to tail

And when bored beyond bearing

I’ll flip the go-switch for world detonation


Everyone outside our firewall

Will burn in their contorted passions

Of greed

And lust

And pain

A hot-flash parade of human torches

As unable to stop the change

As chucks of seasoned wood



And we

Will abide



5 thoughts on “Don’t Mind the Abrasions

  1. I love your unique voice. The thought that even when it hurts, the adoration continues is as intense as the desire to escape into a perfect bubble, safe from the external influences and ignorances.


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