Made a million in my imagination.
Fraught by Good Times, never saw it coming, who
debates that his worth will snap?
Never saw her coming, draped in red leather, riding a
bicycle, looking quite attuned.
Try it for its worth, speaking in riddle, she talked
it in.
Each group has its treasures. I was surprised. So
sophisticated. So wise. A move to weaken perception.
In some circles, a soul is never seen, nor watched
for, it’s the label, and only that.
“Ask her name, say it thrice, ask for her pain,
nurture, buff, support her dreams.” “That seems like a lot. I’m just passing
through.”
So arid outside, like desert clouds, or sweltering
rain.
So prime, such a mover, so deeper those seconds; a
scorpion was in my quarters, it’s a mystery, it disappeared.
