Phallus

The house was old, as the best ones are

And shabby beyond quaintness
The rent was low because the kitchen walls
Didn’t go all the way to the ceiling
Still it had its charm, the young amused
Partied on the pounded dirt slopes of the side
Yard and rising above it all the tower
A radio tower, a metal skeleton
Wrapped in thick snaky black wires
But still you could not touch
Not tell even those you love best
The words, the words that radio times forgot.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Two Dreams and a Baby

Walking on a Cloudy Day Dream

Cracked Ipad, 280Z, and Brewery Parties