Satyr seen sartorial

Fauno Barberini or Drunken Satyr at the Glyptothek in Munich, Germany.

I sat airing daring 
my onions and sardines 
chasing coffee with tonic with lemon 
at this little cafe in early afternoon Sun 
it was a kind of pilfered daylight leaning place 
cobblestones and patina marble, old bones 
old cities display when working the divine rights 
calendrical solemnities, clocks bending pleasing 
forwards and backwards with each life eased in ...

I stare at their approach 
their sweet elixir 
candy cotton spin mixer 
flicks of their hair 
and the personal 
safety of my dragon soul 
is in danger, dagger sharp 
to a soft heart ...

stupor loop heard herd dream here 
I swear I ate enough bread 
and licked the salt off Her skin 
before the wine kicked in ...

I am dressed 
or rather 
on fire 
paraded  
shade is an angled geometric crawl 
I reach into their passing scent 
Doppler kelp giggle spills  
from a conversation 
I am open to this fantasy here where the poem ends : 


there are two maidens laughing 
looking at my horns 
saying to themselves 
just maybe we can see 
and we do so agree 
how it may be snowing 
at the beach in your eyes ...

 EJR  ©