(Written during break from January slam , blu jazz cafe , Arab street

When poets and beauty took break for smoking , and the protagonist unknowingly ended up passive smoking under blue neon lights … )

I should probably write something
I should have probably written something ,
I might as well write something

In the hazy smoke that …
That beauty breathes ….
In the blue lit neon,
Like some old shady brothel

Of small boobs
Of large egos
Of dark nights
Of bright smoky joints

Of polluted tobacco haze
Of unpolluted minds
Of ignorance, No one ever told me
Of blink-and-miss poetic afflatus

Of cute small eyes
Of racist dark humor
Of Eyes meeting eyes
Of dark rimmed glasses

Of slurring speech
Of blurring memories
Of shunning beliefs
Of purring fantasies

Of corporate dress shirt
Of artistic summer dress
Of fainting words
Of feigning phrases

Of long awkward silences
Of short awkward pleasantries
Of missed phone calls
Of monosyllabic yea and nos

Of random faiths
Of ardent faith
Of places divine
Of thoughts satanic

Of random books
Of Mormons bibles
Of Machiavellian reads
Of Rand’s objectivisms

Of freckled skins
Of smooth skins
Of mind over body
Of mind over matter



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