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Sit

I feel guilty. What shall I do?
Cut out my heart and show it to you.
That’s sort of nuts but kind of romantic.
A Pittsburgh bus headed for Atlantic.
Beware of your words. They might match your actions.
Don’t take a step without shoes with tractions.

Something’s wrong with this world of thought.
Our bodies escape us. Ought is for naught.
We slip through echoes and bang into walls.
If we follow our voices we lose our balls.
Worse yet we fly into Zeppelin hangars
afraid to go anywhere without gang bangers.

Know thy self like defiant anteaters.
Stick out your tongue and lick parking meters.
There is no meaning in worlds of pure things
unless they point backwards to the beginning of “ings”
Now stumble along and forget your pants.
You’re naked as a j-bird without the dance.

You’re a bundle of circuits in your own little world.
Follow your eye as your words unfurl.
You’re whatever you think. A boy or girl.
Let nobody define you. You’re god in a pearl.
A cactus lad or Dame Sitwell’s goose.
So sit around and be a thrilling mongoose. 

Published in Poetry