by Edwin Torres

           to fly superseding elevation
           to extreme molten sacri-tude
           to exude ultimate YO-ness
           breathless doubt...what is
           breathless doubt?
           gives me a wide-eyed-request as an

                      no no babe stay away from this velvet poorboy
                      you don't wanna enter hold on to what you know, boy
           never let me in
                      might be too many miles
           never pass those lips
                      might be your only chance, boy
           never falter similes into they own predictious smiles, boy

Plastic log burns inna plastic fireplace
Mirror diecast inherits mirror heaven
Where Am I? just another souvenir spot
in the shadow of the world...another strut
to harden the on in my head.

Where Is This? Who Made It? people
who must've wanted to travel in the first place.
Local flea market, Crafts & Wheres.
5 & 5 ones...for two dollars
you can't go wrong!
- Oh yes you can...it
doesn't fit!

           linus melts mister rogers
           snoopus melting mister raining
           mama pelting misty pain
           puma felching sister kane
           with citizen down and
           effervescents blaring me on
           all you can - i melted my
           daughter love those innuendos
           peter's gun or coletrane's
           five sing my way with
           vocals taking up every piano frill

she says I'm a writer too wants to know
if I have anything with me I say well
you know
she says nothing you want to show
proceeds to explain how if you
add a swing melody to misty it's not just
johnny mathis anymore and I wonder:

These people here in a restaurant in New Hope, PA...how
in contact they come with many different types
and wonder if they coulda been the Big City contenda's
they wanted to be and here they see...Big City
type...ugly New Yorker...Ugly American...like they...and
that's what they want to be and ME:

I have intoxicated into my own salvation, by now - and so
I am Rasputin's Mistress OR Balzac's Blow Job
Or maybe just Kahoutek's Comet...whoring myself
every 80 years for a billion naked eyes
starved for attention.

Edwin Torres Author Page

Pub. May 2000