Apoplexy

The Brie melts politely
on the motley china
waiting for a mote of tea
in a wanton Jersey diner
to dust the waspish tongue
of some thirsty headed fool
like a pro conning the anti-skeptic
about the measure of a hue.

Later, the green is red
and read aloud to the child
in an early evening bout
of shouted joy and wild
dreams of schnicks and tics
and bold faced lying down
pillows - this embarrassment
begins the cheesy frown.

Do you stand under the truth
or understand the weeping
blind of color - addled proof
there can be no speaking
of flibbertigibbety youth
vanquished gently seeking
adulthood in sweet vermouth?

The magnificent near-holy swish
of warm'd butter on warmer bread
leaping gingerly over fish
a symbol of our luxurious dead
reminds the denizens of trenton
that politics is endless food
and nothing real will put a dent in
the muttered gauze of a bit too rude

Now, the words are read
and red paint on the statue
said, "Die die.. please" on the head
the whispered narcoleptic spew
of a sleeping mind untouched
by the reasoned shloop of despair
graffitti crafted not too much
but still with pronto-fleeing care

Do you understand the weight
of standing under shizzle'd rage
color blind baptized disgrace
godless ignorance in a bar-less cage
captured in words like love
belief in dyspeptic notions
too filthy for a piss-white glove
in the warmth of an urine-(err)atic ocean

Did you forget the brie
Melting sweetly for you and me?
The way the plates left us be
the taste of what and hmm and tea
the magic screech of apoplexy?

Did you dearest, forget about me?