by Tim G. Young

such a compact entertainment
so easily distracted
like lost in space
the universe is a mad place
meaningless or meaningful
is it blowing in the wind
is it howling at the moon
banging on the door of time
hanging like fruit on trees
moistened like lips before a kiss
hung out to dry in a hurricane
everything can't be lost
nothing should stand in the way
are there so many things one can't see
inside the incubator
salads and steaks combine
sometimes flowers bare their souls
sometimes women are in control
meanwhile the sun is polished to sheen
the horses in the race
know how to breathe
sharing the entertainment
send it to all your friends
bask in the hidden moon
the far side is not occupied
but love is welcome
heavy strings attached
rising to meet the stars
drinking Manhattans in bars
roll away the stone
play dead
hoping in the longest shadows
there is a glimpse
to remember me by.