American Sonnet #8 [On the morning of June First...]

 American Sonnet 8 [On the morning of June First...]

on the morning of June First wrapped in darkness 

at my boss's desk, taking randomness, & locking it 

in the skin of American Sonnets, i remember the 

semi-flirting banter i had with that one guest; that 

Latino homie i thought was cute in a rugged way. 

he ain't really hear my blues of lust...that low, hummin' 

whine reminiscent of an oboe or a weary cello. 

"i mean, I can't paintbrush the abruptness of what 

i lust for, on highway billboards, can i!?"

'Dear S- wrote a zuihitsu about affection vs. lust. 

what an adventure. I don't really know what im doing

when it comes to writing...i just, sort of aimless meander

and hope something with substance comes...

on June First, i too became one with pre-morning darkness...