Hit by the Thunderbolt

H.L. Mencken said that love,
was the triumph of imagination,
over intelligence.
I suppose he was just about right,
right up until the time you're in it,
heart-deep in the magic zone,
where the scent of her breath
intoxicates you like heavenly heroin
and sweet cocaine,
and you surrender.
And the mere fact
that this bizarre sight
is even possible
in the midst of all this madness,
truly is a triumph,
and you don't care
what kind.

Angel's in the Architecture

On the way back from
Yuri's Night
we met a girl in passing
dressed like an angel
with the full length
white feathery wings
of an angel
she was just going to the Rave
and we
being old men
were leaving
but when my friend
remarked to the minx
that she was an angel
she stopped, faced us
and flipped a hidden switch
which caused her wings
to light up in a dozen multi-colored diodes.
Next year we'll go late
and stay later
in order to experience
the spectacle
of youth,
the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Happy Birthday

I woke up
in pieces
21,900 days
60 winters
60 summers
What fresh hell is this?

Should have been dead
5 or 6 times
that I know about,
or damaged
at the least.
Yet now I'm strongest
at the broken places
at the top of my game.

Is this heaven?
The women loved.
It's to those gentle ones
that my memory runs.

Or more likely somewhere
a purgatory
wrapped in a
Roman Carnival
with Barkers
on the Midway.
Nick Masesso
Born August 12, 1948, Nick Masesso Jr. grew up in the 1950's of suburban Chicago . In the late 1960's he co-founded a
commune. He traveled throughout North America in the 1970's and made treks to South America, Southern and South
Central Africa; His book: "Walking the Midway in Purgatory, a Journal" is available on-line and through bookstores in the
USA and Europe, and through Amazon where he maintains his author
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