a street level information-al-ist rhapsody
(there were aural rivulets
unfamiliar graffiti, beautiful
but near similar sounds,
happenstance, clock
and calendar make
while eating)
she insisted on fashioning her own undergarments
with a certain application of skill, seams on it were meant
to represent who had been here, that knew what and when
so quietly you, those are my questions, until then
why, will only be her slippery mistress
something we'll have to leave, unquestioned
of all its motivation(s) as well as dress
until there might be sufficient time
to enjoy the profanely sacred process...
by the way
stomach said
to heart today
what wine
are we having
with lunch...?
EJR ©
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