Good God, You're It

"Vintage" July in the rain. Wheels on safari. Cold summer pain.

The roars of your Harley. August down pours. Thailand at noon. Velvet suede shoes.

Patches work quilt blues. We rummaged every shelf in San Francisco.

Leather jackets meant for discos. Glasses filling up our brows in cow towns.

The sound bows to all now. Full spreads across the greenery. Foilage and twigs,

leaflet scenery. How the poet never writes sonnet like we touch. The choir never,

never filled the room like our love. The chimney peaked the steeples of

our gothic. Priceless dollar signs and we still bought it. Good God,