You have kept your unkempt head on my shoulder…
Like mountains,
like tigers,
like unfamiliar alleys.
Both of us…hurt, silent, the fragrance of burning flesh…
Birds twittering like dying raindrops, horns of addicted cabbies,
a wind testing the deepness of a windy girl.
Moist cleavage of a bathing woman…
I can see this in the caramel horizon…
But there’s a plumpy sexuality in our wounded silence.
‘ nothing’s gonna hurt you baby.’
I have stopped my masterbation for the discipline of human flesh and erections,
you are here…I am here…the continuity is here.
I have my poems and a practical dick,
fuck the first one and let’s roll through the second.