The Floor Followed Him


Hair blonder than strained knuckle veins,
A deadpan smile that could make
A cat land on its back-

Hustlin'
Slow into the local bar,
Spot him next to his faithful girl
In the
Booth behind minds of harried malice-

Yes,
A smile too human for people.

He rides on a cloud,
Speaking to the conscious ride.

Assured to arise a laugh,
Finding a wet west spot
On the desert ground-

Estranged from bloated disgust,
A kilter of sky blue,
He takes the floor

The floor doesn't take him.