for d.a. levy who waits like
we wait for the roses
that bloom and the roses
that never bloom and
some roses that never don’t
bloom bloom
i see you in your checkered
nikes talking fast, no blackberry
yet navigating in waves, not
having to last .
the people are fading
their faces fading their
repose a fast: fingering
disengagement .
i see you on your purple huffy
baubles on glamour-ring forearms
out of gas from the hill
exhilarated by mtv
i see you working the aisles
moving cans forward, that newer
ones can be got last
we wait for the prophylactics
we swallow exhaustion, do push
ups for admiring, albeit fanning
out customers
we wait for traffic signs
he says she is not into temerity
she says he won’t hold his tongue for any
there are ballbusters, gall bladderers
turners in, and outers
i see you on your cell phone
smiling peripheral, lasting
for months at a time .
we wait for the free line,
sail into summer: chains,
barracks, and bummers
girls just want to have fun
and boys will be boys will be
someplace you sumpter .
and the roses still bloom
stilllllly
