smelling of almonds,
vanilla, roses—so esoteric, a whit preachy, abandoned to streets, cars,
luxuries, privacies. at a lake, laughing, livid with pride—to pronounce vengeance,
to live violet, such rough roads ahead.
I was taken
swiftly. I bought lavender lotion. I gave it to her our first date. a
conversation piece—asking whys behind such a gesture—I made up reasons, feeling
a whit shy.
humans are unsolid:
depending on space—we might want marriage, we might need charms: as forever in
dimension, determined to sin, subtle impulses, tugging our lantern.
depending more on
language, if to chase stars, so soft, so gentle, so aggressive, so insatiable;
such souls of violence, much a need for animals, aging tenderly, requiring torn
whelming: soft intensity, unabated conversation, talk to me about dying with
pleasure.
I came to—asking about
education, career, children, old fires.
“Where were you?”
“I was lost in a
mandate, picturing a screen, on display, forced to debate.”
“What, all of
that!”
