February 23, 1989
The Lance
Page 9
You told me that we could do no wrong
We played in the dirt
1 still have a bruise from the last
Dirt bomb
We still haven't paid for that window
1 don't think that old witch remembered
That you and I did it
Monique asked about you the other day
I wanted to lie to her
1 never understood why the two of you
Ever dated in the first place
Maybe I was a little jealous
She did snatch my best friend
Out from under me
But 1 realized it when I saw her face
I cannot lie for you any longer
You are not off on some romantic island
In the Bahamas with beautiful girls
Stuffing grapes down your throat
And doing all the things we dreamed
Two people would do
When they were alone together
By the way, you lied to me
You and Monique never did
You were just being macho
I told her that you were accidentally shot
And killed in a bar that you were frequenting
Even though you were under age
She cried and made me cry too
I wish you would have never moved
I wish your mother would have never told me
I miss you This is my first entry in my new diary
I'll keep the lines open If you want to talk
ZOOT
INFERNO (GRANVILLE’S NIGHTMARE)
Strike the match and light the fire
Demon figures, do perspire
Put a room in such a flame
And it will do much the same
This keeps up from hour to hour
Til the men bring in the shower
Yet, smoke and ashes end the fire
Oh, but don't forget that demon liar
For he who struck an unlit match
Is sure to have another PACK^
J.F.BRADSHER
Quill and Ink
THAT SIDE OF THE ROOM
If you would hold me
I'm sure I could forget all you've ever done.
So, why don't you stay on that side of the room
As we settle our differences.
No, don't smile at me.
Keep your sharing of my pain
And concern out of my face.
Share my anger if anything
And do not pity me.
My emotions are mine.
And all I have to do to lose them
Is walk over to that side of the room.
TANYA JORDAN
TONGUE AND SPEECH
is it my tongue talking
or are th ewords coming
from between your legs
where i lay
complete
and slender
and saliva
and curious
and cantering
across the plain
of your belly
moving into full gallop
while the horse
i ride
neighs and whinnies
in protest
digging words into the air
behind me with shod hooves
but the air behind me is
silent with the wind
and the final breath of our mount
collapsing between us
and i know the words:
they are touching my tongue
from where they hide
between your legs
and echo audibly
in my mouth.
PHIL STILE