Sunday, December 19, 2010

If Garbo Fell...

Kofi Fosu Forson

Tell the boys in the basement I'm marching off with you
We are going to paint pictures of people falling down
If death found us buried under the books of tomorrow
What will Tuesday bring?
These men watch with their hearts broken and in love
Desire is a word but so is contempt
Among those who bash heads in ours is ink: bloodless
Fight them off with your boxer's stance
Stand the little giant plain-Jane-chique southern blonde
Their Oscar Wilde eyes are watching
Little Red riding Hood I am here if the walls should rape
Come knock on my door Come let us walk the floor
Gathering wheat and water this early morning

How would they know if we folded unto bed
Rumours fall from these bestsellers and paperbacks
Why then should we kiss make music of this
Not when our minds draw a perfect circle
Love within these letters spill across the aisles
We collect them baskets woven with humor
Sit before me damsel wearing an autumn dress
For you with breath I carve dream mold shape
Listen as I read these words victims from my closet
They rest tip of tongue pop from lip filling the air

Return again on a night that resembles Garbo
Tortured white weather overcoming us your grace
Like Hollywood Hills during the 70's we lounge
Lost aspiring actress svengali our Polaroid faces
Pose nude for me looking at you star-lit
Lie before my couch Klimt the palest of skin
Drink me in this cranberry gin put to sin our sex
You cried for Jim was I criminal did I let you down
On the verge damage I had made what could I say
You wanted me so bad I left you burning fresh as yolk

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