Mercer's Poems
Curves

Tensely tapping foot
Dancing a nervous foxtrot. 
The wires of electronic music players
are the ties that bind
my heart 
to 
my morals.

The cobalt sky; 
The aspiration of so many. 
Not me. 

And as rolling hills pass my glance
            Rise
Their              and
                                 Fall
brings to mind the contours of you.

Trains, long and turgid
Hurtle phallic among them.