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Lindsay's Book
part 1

Heroes are Lovers

who the hell do you think you are 
beating around the bush 
          while I play out my real time?

you work on me in a virtual way
               not here, not here. no
guide the pen stroke over the decades 

          from your houseboat docked on a post
          pulling the rope tied to your direction
     you are aware of this power you have over me

          tied to your direction, in a creek, afloat 
          never wishing to drift away
          it's a pleasure for you

                princess, I'm your dog
and somewhere your king goes weary about his day
can't speak to ease his shame 

for playing you 
          into a bad lot of barbiturates, whatever 
                you could lay your hands on 

          Still in madness, you steer his ship
          and I'm just your baying hound
          once was a human teen with promise

          whose seduction was unconditional 
          adoration, a poison greater 
          than a mountain of crystalline blow 

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