January, 2013 - Every Writer

The Epitome of Cool by Art Heifetz

I peered through granny glasses
at the standard issue
crew cut frat boys

U.S. 1 drips into the into the Atlantic
where the sun sets and tourists applaud;

She died like a poem
Wordless and obstructed

I love to see a parking lot being
reclaimed by the weeds,
when it becomes

inamorata of the deep
frozen into their thousand-year dreams,
feed wryly upon one another.

She’s sitting on his bed,
Can’t remember the deaf or the blind,
The souvenir of illo tempore is lost
With her once at his forgotten side,

your lips,
cut like razors,
tap dancing on inapt destinies.