The Hypocrite Walrus

Friday, August 21, 2009

Deep green

I bent over
and under the table
to pick up your
along with
a little of your skirt

A magnificent sight
of a world of legs

And up there was you
with your
neverending smile
where my
should have been

Your lips
melted in red wine

the grapes
from a distant
fresh Chilean campo verde

the rouge of your cheeks
and the green of your eyes

I might as well

And it was sometime
in July.
Some details I can't remember.

But still
I have a feeling
You never
let go
of my hands.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

I've met with a drunk angel

The humming bird
tries to sing from inside
but you
drown it
in vodka and lime

I came to learn that
if I look close enough
even beauty
tends to
blur away