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
Just as sanctuary is glimpsed,
Frantically,
It tears me wide open,
Pumping its contamination in
You should ride downtown on vintage green bicycle,
And join me standing undead on warm wrinkled pavement
I like it when you dig my splinters free,
Pour the hydrogen peroxide in,
Then patch me up again
We should walk with a limp and moan violently
I’ll bleed from worldly abrasions,
As you hang head heavily to distort spine,
And we’ll gain priceless satisfaction from those who park their asses,
To eat their lunches,
On soiled park benches
Sun setting,
We’ll build a firewall of delight and truth in my head,
Watch the unending metal traffic inch by on the street tip to tail,
And when bored beyond bearing,
I’ll flip the switch for world detonation
Everyone outside our wall,
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
Pole Vaulting on the Sun 