Rolled Trousers (for that rude fella with this email in my poly-sci class based on Profrock's Poem...Yes, I have to Spell it out)

(Written last year. I am switching up my blogs due to a mixing of my thoughts)

Saturn Galaxy, you are not big enough
to swallow the entire World.
There are blocks between the stars.
I could excuse myself and walk off the map of the galaxy.
I could stay home drinking wine and crouch down, tiger-like.

Saturn Galaxy, your hair is gone.
Your humor is dry.
Yet dripping sweat like a ripe peach.
You don't attract love.
Is that why you ramble about consciousness?

Pick up a microphone and whale baby.
Put your tears in a jar like the wives of Navy officers.
Wear a color and act that color out. Pink, blue, green.
Sex, Spirituality, Life.

Purple, Red, Gray.
Supernova as you talk.
Melancholy, mysterious, blood passion.
Smell the white jasmine flowers.
Wear an elephant mask and fuck
because no one would make love to you.

Saturn Galaxy, why don't you sweat your fears out?
We will carry you like Jesus in a mosh pit.
Hear my words and you will be saved.
No one gives a fuck if you try to save a tree
from a logger when you have no heart for the World.

Like the Tin Man it's hollow inside you.
Jump on that latter of consciousness
Like dropping a rock into a wishing well.
Hearing a splash echo after forever in five seconds.
The fairy who gathers coins for wishes knows dreams.

It's hard to believe that you
could have had a mother who
wrapped you up in a warm lambskin blanket
soft as cotton clouds,
And rocked you to sleep with whispers.

Maybe that is why you call yourself
Saturn Galaxy. Because you dreamed the
stars and the sun and the moon, and the
planets in your head. You only have the name now.
And a shiny bald head.

The silhouette of you alone against a sunset-
Makes me want to give you the permission to
Fetch me a shooting star.
I'm made of the same star dust as you.
Lasso the stars cowboy.