The Poles of Highland Park
The lower stage
In Highland Park
Bursts with light and and semen.
Poles like scepters,
Stainless-steel erections of empty wallets.
Open pussy staring raw into the
Gaping mouths of skeleton-men
While unknowing girls line up for George Washington
In his underwear.
Wooden penis ready as well as armed on a white horse.
Beats beating the backs of boys
Hoping for a dance.
Hopeless for romance
She lowers her tits
Into the cherry glow of his
She removes her amour
Beneath excited filaments.
Selling glances from her painted eyes;
Polishing the poles with dirty cloth.
Hoping to be paid in dirty cloth.
Settle-up with the clerk on the panty-line
Wet with Washingtons
Drowning in lives unfulfilled
Filled with mocking mirrors and music
Off in tenebrous corners.
Beating back the persistence
Of glazed grins drooling
In surrealistic pleasures
Reflected in endless mirrors
The angel in light descends the steps
It’s $20 for a hand-job.
_ Kevin Kaminski 2012