7
course dynasties or two-thousand dollar jackets or buttonhole intrigue; to
behold the sun in eyes glimmering our daughters with burning ears; so rich in
helium so aborted by evilness or so kissed by metaphysics; as hassled clearly
those epistemic cries while a skeptic dines with epicureanism; such accessories
such waistcoats while attraction becomes the focal-point; to know glowing to
have worked all night where fasting and pills has a man sick with his image;
such resistance prior to an explosion where Love was waiting; as seen leaving
home as felt hitting the gas as renowned for it worked; a gut-wrenching
phenomenon, one’s first charger-plate, while reminiscing upon the knife-line;
those three forks, always situated, to look left a thousand times: our blessings
in you, the hell you endure, while a kindred soul would first attack before
asking those skylights.
I cruise ships, a
complete trope, while sailing into energies: a thumb’s width, a baseline
experience, I was so sober it stuck; those years at anything if but to explore
where it became circumstantial; our dessert spoon, accompanied by a fork, while
I never needed this; such moving electricity while paraded upon a pedestal
where his trousers were pleated; such a subtle hint this thing we rarely
notice, where one is determination the other is a fixit project. I could not
love or I merely possessed while this topic wasn’t a part of family curriculum;
such thoughts in souls, to relocate words, while a daughter says: “You never
taught me the essentials.” By rapture or rubble, by experience or pains, while
some learn etiquette in order to outflank others; behaviors become ranks, or
lack of behaviors become condemnation, where some are so gorgeous no one cares
about forks, knives, or spoons.
