Joyfully glittered tresses and dirt caked cuticles scramble onto the spiral path. She feigns rabid dog,
While harmless lime armies reign conveyor belts, no sign of march, nor heart, relenting.
A lioness in pearls lays, lengthened and propped, coiffed and coutured, enjoying perfumed fine furnishings. While secretly starving, she patiently reacquaints herself with the depths of her den.
A rising in me rinses my face clean like a Mother with a wash cloth, delicately deepening my tender experience.
The late night cars announce themselves below my window in a discourse I digest. If only they would remark back to me, or if only I could speak their language,
this Love might be witnessed.
The crest of a wave with a wish seizes skyward, almost breaking free, only to resentfully recoil back into the vast container of connection which created it.
