Monday, 9:07 pm
Copyright (c) 1994, J. Guenther
All rights reserved



Monday, 9:07 pm

It's just another day you're not here;
(Hell, the sexes are equal when they're blown sky high--
I believe another comic character said that in a film)

shatter * rumble * rattle

[I could have sworn I heard your ebony voice in our ivory hall]

fight the right
        slamshot ramrod slang rimshot

BANG!

        When I was young I thought Id be on top
        and not a bit of blood I would ever drop;
        It would seem my wrong was always to be right
        and I raised my white flag high early in the fight.

        The thunder calls your name in a low purr
        while the sky flashes your neon name.
        The clouds cry a tear for every minute I miss you.
        Phantom voice images of ours tickle my ear as
        spectre mirages of your reflection wade in the misty glass windows in front of me while the frustrated summer rain taps its chaotic chorus against you.

--I was not naked, or at least not now--


