Your Current Affair Poem by James McLain

Wasted busy buys comfort- mined sweat
it is truly lanced a cushion of pins
allude to me soft tender treats.
Vilified wanton butterfly angels outlined
with salt thin torn silk sheets.
Rivers of slow flowing wine wrapped ahead
in grapes where I can't see the night for day
or day in light while feeling so on you.
Dots fly high dancing low spinning by your gate
through flow raspy speech
I haven't got time for the plane or train in sets.
Would you please hand me a cigarette..?