I
get found in images to circulate fancies veering into
illusions.
We rapture so tender a leaf to rise through
glens.
I hurt for a word spoken in such grace as
seductive
as almond eyes. We tour Italy to learn
Italian
to
venture for France aloft a spectacular fancy. We
talk
for depth to phrase in German
ever
a flight
and
ever for love
sanding
an armoire. You drain a sensation to engender
temperament
ever to harvest emotions. We parasail,
kayak,
and sip for hours absorbed in sheer silence.
Balconies
speak of fantasy and million dollar sheets
and
billion dollar diamonds to pillar a thousand
dollar
trestle; but love is never uttered, where lies are
never
told. I jot down an adjective, where ever you
guess,
structured in familiarity; and we love to never
utter
what action screams clearly.
