Sunday Night Blues in the Middle Class

Bound and gagged
Shagged
In neon blue by a red sign
Moonlight pollution haze rust garbage bins and cheap Terriyaki joints
With a police officer
Occifer
Around the corner;
Probably just picking up his take, though.
This is the dirty part of town
Brown
A bit dirtier with us here
Bound and gagged
Shagged
-- No, I didn't mean grime. Stop interrupting the poem --
People have stopped to stare,
She's a bit red too,
Like the sign
But I'm okay with that. You're welcome.
Anyhow,
I'm spent in more ways than two
And the night's still young
And so are we
-- Not really, I'm nearly thirty, but 'and we're middle aged and overwieght' didn't flow so well
See, didn't, did it? --
Anyhow, we're both high
Like beat poets
But without the authenticity
But with the beat poetry
Rundown houses, cats, back street throwdown throw up lipstick graffiti
High enough that sounds good
Should
High enough anything sounds good
State of the Union remastered slowed down in technocolor sounds good
When you can taste the streetlight.
Still bound
Still gagged
-- That's why this is a monologue. She can't speak much.
Mnh hoo!
Okay, it's because I have the crayons and post-it notes --
It's hard to write and drive
-- Should that be in dashes? Shit --
Bright red hybrid yuppy love mobile,
Like a Martha Stewart flower power VW bus,
Careening down the street
Out of control, too slow,
Only doing twenty five but so high the world blurs by
So we're bright red and she's still naked
Bound and gagged
Shagged
All messy messed up hunched down,
Hard to look inconspicuous
In handcuffs in suburbia
-- Unless you have an iPod --
We reach home, safe and sound
Rose bed Briggs sign twinkling in the bright moonlight
Run in, happy, still naked, still high all night
Morning
Steely eyed middle aged overwieght white shirt and tie
And a false I don't really give a damn smile
Wear the mask another week
Until we go back home
Bound and gagged
Shagged
Naked in the filthy moonlight.