Crazed Tandem Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Look at your clenched hands -
Quaint and regal.
Close the doors,
They don’t have to know
How we are,
Or what we are doing
In this parsimonious threshold.

The flowers bloom,
The lithe clamor of the clouds
Burn as the populace relinquish
The spiel of their festivities -

Let them revel
In their own, finicky pedantry
Close the doors,
They don’t have to see
What we do in the silence and seclusion.
They don’t have to hear
Our little breaths.

We’ll shove the egress,
And let the errant wind
Stifle us, as we are braided
On this soliloquized, burning bed.
The night will pass
And the populace will sleep soon enough
In a cataclysmic slumber
And when they do,

We’ll rave the city streets
And vandalize their walls,
And ruin the beauty in everything,
With chained hearts
On our sleeves.