Oh Germain, my Germain

St.Germain, where are you, sick mother
when folks out there
need ya like hell

when folks out there
would've liked
a conversation or two
to figure out your current status...

bow to your
countclown
irresistibliness

grace of a temptible
sharkfin's lookafter

to see your latest
spitshine incarnation
in a bar broken mirror
golden buddhagilded backdoor
or some local balalaika hero's
mustached
face

to inhale into deepest
attics
fragments of
your peripheral attribute wands
to have an audition w/ solar
forgiveness

or to finally witness
inevitable
changes
in the big bang parades
of your structure...

that's what Aquarian means
backwards

when your lies of la's of the Shangri
finally become truth,
where are you, sick mother, enlightened jive icon
while your golden children
from Fountain Youth
still wait restless
for yours
who-knows-which-number
coming...