New Haring

We could, you know, paint poignant pictures together
And, if you wanted, put pen-line portraits of ourselves
On the walls, did you think, that it was possible to see our figures
Cast as shadows, neverending and running, across chalk mural highways?

Bursting with chakra wavelengths, now you agree, and forever looping
We sink into each other with bits of bristling brushstrokes, all one hand's creation
We made love in between the lines, where little meaning resides
Never commenting that we could't quite make out our private parts
and secret zones - well, in retrospect, they weren't filled in
He left that to our scrutiny, and in a perfect world
We saw each other as we were in truth
Naked, half-dead, and hunched on ancient stoops

And penciling Primordial outlines
Archetypes of kinetic kinds of movement
New Haring split his head in two
Veins in vain in AIDS in aids to eyes