the gaudy doors

[revolutionrabbit]

the gaudy doors in his thoughts
suddenly burst open
like a ride at the amusement park
there the girl walks along the arcades
her hair like cotton candy
a rag mop soaked in cherry juice
in the blood blossom sunset she rose from
the bottom of the image like a cigarette

she held onto like a pencil she drew with
the night I met her down by the surrealist sea
of wine and thrills near to the spill hill
looked over at the Neptune's palace
the rides in the boardwalk were all dead
her hair was infra red I was her rose colored shades
we stumbled along the little vomited railroad track
in back of the teenager vampire kingdom
on a trestle that connected to the love leap cliff
like a mountain of steel in the dark
where the dragon cars go up and down
the rolling boaster of young girl screams
the night held poetry in the junk shadows
and the cries of haunted fun house
flat out disperse out on the roller waves
as we go deeper into the tunnel darkness
of laughter and shouts through the morphine mist
of our meeting as the scratchy records went around
in the background, school is out for summer

the poet is a bread crumb
the bird hesitates
I ponder Max Ernst on the ink stained wall
I a painter of words only, she writes pictures
on the rug of cosmic mindless ceilings
the emptiness of space, her taste

and return to the little surrealist picture room
where she listened to old jazz and drew until dawn
objects melting into layers of unconscious landscapes
peeling back to reveal the future in the past
this rock candy hedonic moment cannot last
that damn magic book sitting there on the
table, mocking my belief, poetry made by all

and I am the one who mirrors her last infinity
between what ragged hall of mirrors
goes down to the cave of stolen childhoods
in the reflection and the time after time traveler
along the body fluid river of museums of poems
that were only written on walls with magic markers
with red dot painting in the middle
of a black canvas of cosmos come
and the arm chair of nothing ever the same
the deserts of dimension, even as, they fade the mirage
of that first strange kiss in the forbidden moon rocket

the perceptive doors in his thoughts
suddenly burst open
like a ride at the arcane amusement park
and there the girl walks along the garish arcades

she held onto me like a pencil she drew with
the night I met her was along the secret saucer sea

as we go deeper into the neon coaster caster darkness
of lewd laughter and acoustic shouts through the lava mist

of our meeting down along arcades
the jazz records melted
in the background summer gets out forever

the poet is a bread crumb offering
the bird hesitates
I like Max Ernst
I a painter of words only
to the emotions of space

and return to the the crystal skull room
obscene objects melting into layers of cartoon talk
peeling back to reveal the furniture in the last shot
that damn magic book sitting there on the
table, mocking my belief, poetry made by all
she slumped in the back seat of the 58 Buick
on our way back from Frisco

the gas gage had been on empty the whole way back
and we had spent the last of our money on pills
we had visited her old black dealer in the Tenderloin
the one that had been in the Korean war
I had been in city jail all weekend because
the car I had been in had been abandoned
at an intersection by my poet friend
and I had to drive the Chevy station wagon
to the police station and they impounded
the car and me
my poet friend
brought my girl friend back to get me
on Monday in her shiny 58 Buick
so we went to get some codeine
for the ride back along the coast
and a few used books of poetry
we had gotten in North Beach
before the intersection incident

she looked good nodding off in the back seat

[dadio]

excellent capture of theme with fine words.