Marooned Afternoon




Cloudless afternoons after cocktails and macaroons

Marooned on a couch in this listless living room

Listening to tales of cocks’ spurs while macaroni’s consumed

Counting countless macramé mats adorn lavish festoons


Call us cowards or masochists or at least buffoons

Matching the measurements of our cocks taken by rule

Laying out cushioning entranced inside tubular tombs

Tuning into the television for the latest caustic cartoons


Questioning the lastingness of telepathy on tantalized fools

Maneuvering cocksurely through the mind’s turnstiles in tune

Letting taxes, tracksuits and tract marks align adjoining attitudes

Co-conspiring to cancel the masses of taxidermists’ baboons


Taking the cautious calculation of most calculated moves

Meandering might be the most major of melancholy moods

After all is said and done last loner to leave levels to soon

Crescendo of light in the tepid triteness of laughter in the afternoon


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