Haute Dish The Arts & Literature Magazine of Metropolitan State University Icicles
Spring 2005


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Morning #21
By Michael Joseph Winslow

Huge you
hung around the corner of Hennepin Ave. & S. 8th St.
bumming out cigarettes to the petulant passer-bys
until you had no more
and we snogged.

Slime of aching desire.
Sublime night of sharing.
—sight prompts regret of
anything we do not yet have.

Stacked euphorias;
pompous jealousies: What awful thought would rot
& corrode your mushy soft brain.
—cannot take it, but must.

Semi-truck’s squeaky brakes make sounds like
miscellaneous bird’s chirps & squawks
in the morning
when I’m still confused.

Halloween cobweb crotch?
Righteously wearing your virgin costume?
A vague convergence of events?

Perfection is a fluid thing.


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