Helpless Siren Nymph

Helpless, 

You swayed from non mother to non mother. Your siren 

Song on the street, when you emerged like a nymph 

From the river of drunkenness, flowing silt 

From your palms. You were a beggar 

Drool 

ling a love song. You drool 

ed like a missing child, reduced to footprints, helpless 

As an unmoored race horse, revving with no direction. The siren 

Of the cop car; you covered a toy with a napkin on the street. You were a nymph, Sleek with sea-weed hair. Your body was silt, 

A stinging wind. The color of your desert skid burns is my rouge. You: a beggar, 

Desiring to race. Drag me to the tippy top of the wedding cake. I’m a beggar Yearning for your pitiful poem. My eulogy is this: oh Jimmy, your drool Is the ocean, and I have cinder blocks for soles. Jimmy, I am helpless To reanimate you. They say you could rebuild Lil Bastard five times over, the siren Of your last motorized grunt compels us, it is the ballad. Nymph 

Like in our secrecy, we took your bandaid-stiff leather and retaught it how to dance. Like silt

We danced through fields of wheat, looking for you. We are searchers, scanning the silt. We hear the flick of your lighter in every twig snapped underhoof. Beggars and fools, we drool 

Like silenced and stunned sitters on the porch enshrouding heaven. We are helpless And pathetic in our gizzard-whipped trill toward sodom. We hear the siren s, the red light descends, as we chase your nymph 

Like, tiny eely body, shrunken by the blast. We suck on your exhaust pipe like nymphs Inhaling water. You transformed into silt, 

Body blended with the Martian earth. Orange-pop desert scene slash wreck, beggar For mercy, you, cleansed to death in a tempest of car parts. Your drool Is oil in my tank, accelerating me toward your silver-plated fate. Helpless Against the winds of your swift departure, I fly like a tin roof in a hurricane. And the siren 

s blare, your memory is a blue-tarp of shoddy protection, the apocalyptic siren s of your upward twirl. You are a cloud ascending but catching on every branch. Nymph In the yet-fallen water in the clouds, you are a storybook of a man. Kid. Boy. With silt As your freckles, you whipped the white ass-flesh of my eternity. I am a beggar For your stuck motor of wrath, your rut of red-edged nowhere. Your car drool s oil and I sop it up with rags to wring into my tub, my basin of time. Helpless

ly we moved, the calendar’s grid like lasers, into the webbing of your decade. Beggars and acolytes, sirens and nymphs behold you as an eel-like epiphany, Helpless against your silt-pricked uphill river.