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May’s Little Kisses
Remaining a functional being: hands, eyes, glutes, legs, touching myself, all in place, and a few coins of street wisdom I licked a purple tongue.
Lasting a winter training of attaching thought to foot, I shall conclude what’s food, what’s illusion not to include, like apes sex on the fence of the school yard. Who invented that? twisted shows, c’mon…?
Anyhow, anyway I took the long road just not to rhyme easy way and ended up cuddling with a stranger on the cliff of a Saturday storm, here we are, standing no quite standing, but we found a hole in drifted wood, god knows how, god didn’t mean, street dog to come and tell us we have just become 1 or 2 without counting, it equals more than enough.
A cynic nodded and gave us a fig medal, for a harder day, to live or to love but without saying a thing because a spring kiss muted all mental garbage and hysteric poetry.
It’s over now.
This chapter.
The river that flows upstream..
Even fish, urged to scream
Breathing not breathing.
But there is something essential to see, to be, to breed and the man of no land, my fish scales are overgrown, there is no such thing.
As eternal love, we repainted the flag just to remind the bears, to smell before the final bite.
