Upper Sensations

A white back
--The one companion image
dinned and crossed
conversations
up to the shiny aristocratic,
undemocratic,
wandering astonishments
laced in unagreed upon
conditions
so that we'd
just go and see what happened,
we'd stretch out
and forget about death.

Now,
time for another, I'm terrible
at first impressions,
I give too much jazz arrayments
and accept the slimest potential
of our time and place
as possessing unprocessed explosions
of fortified expressions.
Just le mot juste (only the right ones)
and nothing besides.

But every sour tongue is part of the experience,
I'll learn, I'll learn . . .
yet in cocophany of brittle sounds
and bitter plates did I forget
that hunger and thirst had ever existed.