reading Hemingway

the campfire burned a bright flame on top of my hunger 

i hope everyone knows by now:

we're not getting any younger;

thus cold time sitting in the freezer calls my name! 

it sounds like geezer 

while the cod on the cape has lots of wealth & ladies stroll the beach for health 

but i can't go there with my head of hair 

and share 

that dream of paradise 

it's a lump of coal a chunk of ice 

an alley with an deep dead end 

and you're dumped there without a friend 

without a lively book, no color on your face 

that you didn't paint or trace 

but this appetite on my tongue isn't a hangover from when i was young 

the hard surface feels like a passion which persists beyond any passing fashion 

as sun brightens the fire and burns the wood 

it lingers in the bones and makes them feel so damn good 

running full face inhaling air swallowing embers and playing dare 

reading Hemingway reading Crane 

thinking youthful shit with an active brain 

dancing to a temptress's song 

and trampolining naked is never wrong.