I write like sex in Church Latin --
the Ecclesia Latina of recent antiquity.
They make up words for things
like penitus and sic vita est.
The cloistered memories of summer,
Girls with blueberry eyes and merlot lips
And sundresses in December
with Google latine translata
and an addiction to the caffeine in my cup,
Overly anxious for amphetamines,
on the road with Kerouac, complaining
That they stopped making Equanil and Miltown.
I pay for my coffee with a ten dollar note
for the illusion of free money in the change
and wonder why I find it easy to love.