reading banned books

i can be a contrarian

smoking cigarettes in fresh air

near a city of the north

which is above water with a shoreline

like the door of a house

swinging questions into my mouth.

oh, yes, here i am

answering nothing of importance

with a sparkle in my eye

seemingly open to the sky

but inside a tent at night reading banned books.

i took the wheel to Baltimore

with Bette by my side

looking to shop for boots like hands

which would caress their tiny fingers around her toes,

weaving like soft waves over warm white sand.

at the store, drunken birds ran across the parking lot

without wearing masks below their fire red eyes

while Bette sat on a curb eating grapes,

spiting seeds with a huge blast of air

all the way to Paris,

where it was already evening.

she had a strong urge to fly

because she was beautiful 

and in need of a new pair of boots and socks

which were more than white or black

like the keys of her piano.

we both went inside and drank our fill

before the wolf moon rose and the night

became barely visible.