the ships have sailed, nub-lorn, solo
gray-haired and quickly aging
the skin is withering on the face
without siesta pillows facing

in the morning glass, see a wimp
surfs subscription sites for nub
the light saber now wordsmithing limp
and cannot raise above

seeing pain mapped in the moue
the teeth now dwindling few
blue-light rings about the eyes
growing dim without a clue

met this peach on the silver screen
voluptuous and full of smarm
her face looked clear the pixels squeezed
with a guitar she mooned me warm

her screensaver now my startpage
pandora streams cam room songs
we pm'ed the night in shades of gray
just for me she rides her thongs

the electric-eye is on the desk
she distillates me by the sight
danced and sang til the bird-song light
just for me threw out the night

schmoozing with her crooning voice
fibrillating the pink-stem fruits
from this my kinghood tips she quaked—
her siren voice like flutes

wheedling me to cross the bridge
through the looking-glass privi door
then i woke up to an empty screen
and missed my brain cells more

and this is how i'm the tumbleweed
the insomniac by a moonscape aching
buying tokens lines my prune-like face
now, for me, with bongo she's waiting








4.4 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    rhyme