Lika

like a Bond martini

shaken not shtirred

shooting and shagging

sublime can be absurd

like a night time pill

taken in the day

like a lack of real choices

the raw edge of the fray

like a wet runny fart

you thought you could hold

like a lemon gun burn victim

that wouldn't be told

like the holes in a crumpet

debasement in the sleaze

the spotless the plotless

Swiss increments in cheese

like that famous creek

chock full of barbed wire canoes

like standing there in ya undies

no shirt, no pants, no shoes

like the sound of one hand clapping

close your eyes and see

like letting go, forgetting so

close your mind and be

like trying to snatch a shadow

that fades straight through your hands

like trying to make time go backwards

a futile reversal of the sands

…like a buried anxiety

exposed to the day

…like this aint no happy time

there’s no come out to play

like the stand you tried to make

that died and became a scene

like the sense it made upon your lips

now just the ghost of a silent scream

like watching wet paint dry

and then waiting for it to peel

like a dry empty tear duct

a conscious step back from the feel

like watching your mother in law

back over a cliff in YOUR brand new car

like how do you know the fridge light goes out

when both me and the door are ajar

like starting a fire

…you can't put out

and only enough breath

…to breathe or to shout

like seeing something in the sky

and really wanting to believe

like a cling wrap killing

"What doesn't breathe?"