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The legality of yoga pants

by Johnny Crimson

We rolled candy cigarettes
in the ATM vestibule
just down the street from silence
as cannon fire filled the night sky.

Trans-Atlantic periscopes
downed for super secret submarines
look like tiny robotic heads in the water
always shaking no.

The gobs of eyeliner
you insist makes you invisible
smear on our garments
as the "docks dog" barks at nothing.

Cadaver searching covert missions
that never end with zippered bags
keep our eyes open just wide enough
to aim at each other's mouths.

A harpooned oyster bed
floats atop the brackish water
as the pearls wait at the sea floor,
our eventual hiding place from the gods.

"Meet me there in 20?"






03/10/2014

Posted on 03/10/2014
Copyright © 2024 Johnny Crimson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by A. Paige White on 03/10/14 at 03:10 PM

i could meet u there about 4:20 providing my feet are workin and i still haven't caught my train or made my flight. love it.

Posted by Laura Doom on 03/10/14 at 07:33 PM

Yoga pants--not illegal but possibly illicit; does yoga make anyone pant? 2015 might be the breakthrough year...

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