Alan Britt
 
 

 

          FRIDAY NIGHT
 

We were slammed up against

the wall the night

we voyaged to Haiti

and other ironic lands

where zombies

splashed their white hips

of coconut.

 

Frail dictators slept

in rough hammocks

suspended

by rainbow spider webs.

 

We peeled ourselves from the wall.

 

Had a look

at the landscape,

the horizon was ours

again.

 

We watched

heavy black clouds

herding angels

across a field

of sulfur.

Copyright 2003 Alan Britt.  All Rights Reserved.

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