sad


will you be sad with me
oh will you be?

will you be sad down south 
in the bougainville 

sad in the saddle, yippee-i-kaiee
bite your tongue, watch your mouth 

laugh a little east of south 
shine the flowers, rise the sea

let our bliss be agony

~

notes:

sadness proves joy.  exquisite is sad, joy's anagram.  you are never so pure as shuddering with sad, wet with tears in vita.

feel a lime green corduroy sofa circa 1949 near a window with blinds half closed to afternoon sun, lovers kissing in old-fashioned underwear. a faded grape rug of furze.

in a room, same time, of peeling linoleum and browned screens, the artist tunes the radio to the edge of the rain, 

so neither is loud.




© Copyright 2005 Peter Chapman

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