My heart is for sale.
Bathed in a humming neon puddle.
Behind bars on Alvarado and 4th.
Swapped for a big-screen TV.
I'm told by a friend who knows.
To keep the kids distracted.
My heart beats under shatterproof glass.
It cuddles a string of mock pearls.
Paste, as we were.
Safeguarded by Hector, his sidearm.
And Bay Alarm, after hours.
When the junkies’ window shop.
My heart can rest where it is.
I stride lighter.
Ten ounces adds up when deducted.
Air now travels under my suspended soles.
Gravity has no pull on me.
Detached, untethered, floating.
My heart is at Pawn City.
An emporium unrivaled for quick cash.
And the occasional vital organ.
Friend says to lover, do you love me, friend? I do, says lover to friend, and searing panic rises. Will we be together someday? Yes, but first I must wrench your heart out of your chest and stomp on it.
I should have listened and bought her a TV instead.
I can't count. It's 6 lines. It's gold. Absolute stunner.
The first 5 lines ( quintuplet?) is in my top ten favorite poems of all time. I'm not kidding.