When I was young, peering relentlessly through morning windows, leading out onto pedestrian cities. Southbound, I departed later on in life, walking the same pathways of adolescent years. Leading and deceiving myself, into believing tell-tale lies.
Afternoon imagery of the sultry lake
Willows malingering softly through scattered breezes
Ruthlessly, words trickled from a delicate tongue, through vague attempts at recapturing something precious in her pale frame. The whiteness in a young woman's portrayal. Voluptuous her night-red lipstick, glazing tenderly, methods of years and madness. Her breathing passed in trivial monotones. In walking, her bluesy melon hips swagger in swallowing shallow moons.
Dank worms that rest upon withered oak boughs, remaining still, through it all.
She enters domesticated establishments in non-rebellion.
Diamond chandeliers reflect themselves in well furnished evenings.
In opening screen-doors onto shimmering noon-time verandas
Sundays in the precocious sunshine valley. Downward roads descend, diminishing intermediate interpretation, awaiting automobile premonitions, of days that ran before. Sanded dust and silken dirt avalanches beyond interstate boundaries. Early highway of desolation, bitten and forbidden, marvelous granite pounds concrete thresholds, interlining vacant monument museums.
Dreams of the raw cypress trees that aligned my youth.
Scented with presumptuous perfumes, her vulnerable fingertips, woven in feminine grace and beauty.
Joyfully we lingered in Southern Pacific coastal regions.
Then at dusk beside the fire, residing familiarity aside the warm hearth,
Insidious bliss poured from tenuous veins in sea-like blue.
Red devils shot them down before the Autumn bared.
No comments:
Post a Comment