Have you ever wondered why skies in minds
and in front of eyes have always been blue? Or why women
always have to water little seeds? My face goes magenta.
No clothes that are being sold, are allowed for buying, at least
not the ones you like. And kissy faces staring at you
from buzzing screens don’t grow smiles. Rusty
swollen singed hearts burn in the air until
some cloudy dream floats along and makes you turn into
a dainty dove with silvery sighs. Feeling your
lover up, as wet as rain, that falls from that cloud which you can’t
touch. My life is an adult movie
which I shouldn’t be watching, but I have my woolen blanket wrapped
around an oversized skirt that covers my origami paper belly.
Folded into two perfect halves so that it
bulges out just like the beautiful
Equator of our wooden lives on this airy earth.
Perfectly balmy in the tropical mind. So hot and humid.
Scattered hair has fallen disarray on your purse that has within so clean
A white slipped sheet that it would push the sun from west to east so
that it would rise from there where it should, if only you
could hand it over to the man behind the desk, but
movies are meant for the joy of enjoying. So you
turn away from the keyhole to reality and live behind
the door beyond which, you don’t
have the right to, so don’t expect