Oh, to be the Cream

FAKE SOUL

Red nail bed
orange door
White strings
of my neurons
firing at me
empty plastic
bottles green
or clear
horses hair
egg white
I had to crack you
to see it
along the River Avon.
Picture the
bridge orange
rust under
tennis shoes or
your hat
tucking itself
into gravity--
it stood you up
to leave you at it alone
lapping at
the shore

Picture the
ceiling white
dust under
the refrigerator
your face
falling off
after I shut
the door
picture the door
orange,
Wasn't it?
Picture the nail
beds red
like they weren't
Picture the telephone
green
like it wanted to be but couldn't
legs kicking over the railing
like you never wanted
No, all you ever wanted
was everything
You never had dreams
of bicycle wheels
for the 7 seconds of
le vol
or did you?
You always were the first
to journey to the end of the night so
lentement, désespérément
votre amour dans le cadre d'une vague
tranquillement.