Leisure Pursuit

Every day I capsize my head

with the sheer weight of combative colors

all staving off a yellow jacket

and long brown hair, like wheat grass.

I am feeding on Bibles

and other scripture

their beauties and blasphemies 

arguing for spots in line

I am tiredly chewing on

the works of 1960's antiwar authors

and the poetry of simple minded

and seemingly innocent business-men

But every time I am brimming with

the catastrophes and philosophies 

of all these healthy distractions

she loses her way

And transforms into the golden goddess

I like best

charging in on a chariot,

triumphant as Apollo as the morning sun

She sweeps away a mustached veteran

and the doubting Thomas (though both good men)

and submerges my consciousness 

in her soft, honeysuckle eyes.