you are a lagoon of freshness,
radiating with medieval Neon spandex tapestries
in burrito limelight on
Sunday Morning. You are
my antique Museum collector of Grecco Romanian Belongings:
a Colander to sift sand and fish scales through one side of known to another
You are my collaborator, mushing my future through the cheesecloth of time in the lunchbox of memory to the Sturdy Shelves of your hardware pantry.
The pastries of your flesh
sound high collar sugar
crystal music into collective
houses and concrete community
gardens and relish factories.
You permeate the
industrial ground with
water melon sound
I will collect your fingers
fading the rosewood as you
press and release the guitar body
I will cherish your flagship
fantasies and bring
them to harbor when you agree to appear naked on shore,
spring poet,
evermore.
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