If this is the last night of my life
There is a Rash of sunburn in the cafe tonight;
many white folk in praise of Father Sol
(Is “rash” the proper collective noun for sunburn?).
I sweat, uselessly, against the wall.
It is not sexy;
as sweat on TV is...
It’s not EROTIC, like sweat on the big screen.
My sweat is pointless; a nuisance at best
and it’s not even summer, yet.
Dying tonight would save me... alotta time... alotta boredom
but I’m more coward than bravo
more snake then cougar.
And for that...
I shall:
-live.
-survive
-exist
-and have to face the sun, again.
If tonight were...
the last night of my love
last night of my cowardice
last night of my boredom...
Then tomorrow would be... “a piece of cake”
I’d spend my whole day in bed.
Tons of people would poke and stare at me.
People would look at my angelic visage and cry.
Women from Coast to Coast would close their eyes and apologize, silently.
Men from South to North would curse my name and say "good riddance" loudly
But...
my dust loves air, sex, food,
drama and drink.
And my meat still prefers sweat over bake.
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