January 6, 2011

You’re there and I’m here and it seems
a century since I glittered you with gold.
Infatuation begins this way before revving
down to first en route to the supermarket
to buy disposible knapkins to sop up the mess.
It’s easy to color the surface a deep hue,
a carpet stain, a holocaust in the history books
without the work of getting to know each other.
This is not to say your glow doesn’t blind me.
I see in the corners of your mouth a gateway
to the sunny nook of your beautiful mind.
The softness of your edges makes me want
to rebirth in your arms, but what is done is done.
The storm started oceans away and even
underground, generations ago in a falling seed,
but let’s buy brooms and paint the house anyway.

LOCATION: Morro de São Paulo, Brazil – In hammock on a hillside porch overlooking the town.

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