I breathe life into her
and she breathes life
into me
I am her body
every part of me
love, chooses us
like a Boquete of dancing flowers
like a morning
that has not yet come
or called our name.
there are things
of the mediocre
Averages
that average men
like spreadsheets.
Reaching for her
when she, is just out of reach.
I am surrounded by dead things
grasping for fantasies, I can place in a dingy cupboard.
Live things
don’t collect dust
they collect
light, sunset light
on waves of eternal play
they giggle
like whirlpool waters
laughing
on the way down.
Rich things
can be cold and damp
or warm, as the summer sun
Canary-yellow Ferrari
on blue Caribbean day
cobblestone streets
and Gelato.
I’m guilty of wanting to trap beautiful things
sweet things
tasty and smooth
black and yellow butterflies
dusty swallowtails
that swallow-up my soul
let me know what it tastes like
sensual delight
beautiful butterfly
I want to try on your wings
to fly with you
to make me feel alive
but I know
alive things fly with alive things
the sandy ocean
is for sandy ocean women.
I watch the alive things
it hurts to look at them
but I can’t look away
beauty is just out of reach
if we could only grab it
and hold onto it
without choking her
like a yellow rose
cut
and dying
in lukewarm water
breathing
in a dusty house.
I prefer to watch beautiful things
staying alive.
I’ll capture them in photographs
in my mind.
I won’t mount them
on satin or velvet
like a sexual conquest
with the needle piercing through.
I’ll let them be alive
free, and dancing
Alive, so different from me
I wish I could live with them
I wish I could be with her
Alive things grow in my soil
underground
she is every part of me
we might breathe the same air
if I was breathing
Give me the breath of life
so that I can breathe into you.