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four o’clock
in the velvet morning
sipped the origin
of Levi’s-jeans blue
from a chipped teacup
and pulled a roll of music
from her socks drawer
sat on the cool floor
meditating on old paintings
she used to look at
in childhood encyclopedias
and no longer sees
except occasionally in dreams
when her subconscious is
trying to tell her something

…..I dreamed about you
……….last night

the wind brings an introduction
an unknown scent of life
a bold, world-wise taste of love
she would have been
too young to recognize
had it come knocking
on an earlier morning

…..we were next to each other
……….on the line at Starbucks
……………in some vintage street in Belgium
………………..and you spoke to me in English

ribbons on the sly moon’s tresses
dancing to the tune that
the way clouds when
electrically charged
can move the vulnerable
an unfamiliar song
but painfully alluring

nature’s brew
cotton candy smoke curling up
from intimacy’s chimney
stroking my sky
studding my dawn with
Swarovsky crystals and dark
Machiavelli chocolate orgasms

…..ringing of the phone
……….breaks my reverie

…………………………but it wasn’t you.
.

pointe
.
untitled photo from the image bookmarking site, WeHeartIt
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