Saturday Lambaste Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Saturday agony –
On a floor encroached with sullied linoleum
As if entangled, with arms prickly in an emporium
Of memories that rid you of sleep,
Writhing in a burning room, smoldering bed
Like a pyre for a Greek’s ritual for eulogies and burial

Saturday fantasy –
Thinking about the time of passing cars
And eyes that took flight before planes divide the sky
Almost as if relentless of time and grace,
Should I blink for hours until your return?
Heading home, with sweat on my palms and glum in my pocket

Saturday allegory –
Of a man, lost in the subcompact of a car
And the scent of a woman slithering in the passenger’s seat
With the air serenading the hair of a multitude of locks
Like snakes of lavender hue, coiling me, the enamoring garrote
The engine quieted in the absence of the damsel’s poise

Saturday misanthropy –
My brother whistles a song akin to me,
As if trying to mend what these thick layers of macabre
Have long been trying to rend in years that revolve around Saturdays
I despise the abomination much as I disdainfully nullify
All your feel-good blarney and such that make my head explode.

Saturday flattery –
The Sun has been shrouded with thick nimbuses,
With the drizzle falling yieldingly on my boorish skin
In the barricades of the public utility vehicles I sit in poetry
Which remind me of Saturday ecstasy
This bamboozling inebriation is void.