Over steak with potatoes and sprinkled with garlic. Arms
chiseled. Legs baptized by Beauty. The book tells secrets. Neck and chest free
of spots. I was moving motion, enlove with memories, realizing, this ain’t
living. So taboo to adore us, losing
faces, becoming solid fantasy. (“Keep
it on track.”)
One might
unveil. It becomes unmeasurable. French islands, nickel plated moons, sunshine
is expensive. I was at the banks,
bikini citadels, to grow, a younger self, eating intestines—fraught by fury,
flaming prematurely, trying to decipher esoteria.
Colored
essence. Unpainted existence. Maybe guileless. Cherry lipstick. High-tech intelligence.
Too great to exist.
I would
drop it all, in a flash, like lightning, if and only if …
Aches
and pains and miseries and joys.
Paris
souls, allotted destiny, to gaze into heritage. (“Keep it on track.”)
I’ve made confession, at a small church, does it fill
the hole?
Smiles made tears to embrace such a genuine women. I was
moving faster. I was laughing where it hurts. I couldn’t accept beauty of art
the sincere soul.
Over steak
with potatoes and sprinkled with garlic.
