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#1  Love poem? In her presence, I am forced To train my eyes elsewhere. Her form is hypnotic motion: I couldn't look away. Grimy fingers would press themselves Into violation of decency If I were caught in her trance. The illusion would be ruined. In my mind lay the remains of a hundred dictionaries. They are all shredded, but the words are all intact. They lay in piles like runic puzzle pieces. I fumble for conversation, And I end up buried under all those words. All those words. She senses what I sense, I can sense it: I'm brick walls, But inside, I am a bee hive on coke. It's all I can do to contain myself. She is every woman. |
01-29-2007, 01:29 PM
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