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Michael McGuire
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Free Flow
Lost specifically in the arbitrary fatigue and rush of gravity,
She was already pregnant when she laid for me, And the sex was just a gravedigger's fantasy.
Standing in the river the current breaks around the story of my flesh,
The easy evil of letting go, And becoming the artist of the flow.
Desperate minions of the deed, Inertial hunger atrophy,
Meaning surveyed; prime time pimp,
Consumer fraud's ecstatic limp,
The lanes a clearly painted ride,
The petty price of the other side,
It's the belief that gives these gods their glow, Puts the sweat of the clouds into the flow.
I map her erogenous zones based on incidental sense,
She forecast the spread of her thighs when my tools are tense,
She leans close; hands quick with skill and whispers a beautiful; go,
And I am a vehicle of passing; another passenger of the flow.
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