this is the cap that poor jerry wore
the day that he beat the big drum
until his palms were so very sore
in the heat of the dance in the dust
now he sits still and takes it all in
saved from soiling his cap with sweat

i see you
in the magnificence of your aura
and in your splendour
a supple aesthetic comma
with cupped hands
i see you
scoop up the water and let it trickle through your fingers
even as the weaver birds chatter ceaselessly outside
i see you
in that magical moment, a rainbow on your *****
as the fine rose sprays your body with resplendent water
in a wondrous fusion of sun, water and glowing inner warmth
i see you
break into a lyrical smile brimming with beauty and belief
and i think to myself
you're the story still to be conceived
the epic poem in heroic couplets in the making
you're the holy grail men have sought in their pilgrimages
i shall create a chant and a mantra in your honour
even as your person and your image vanquish me
and that's what love is
you're consumed by your mate in the fashion of the black widow
a ravenous spider that eats love

maybe it was me
that cursed you
and i might admit it

you dreamed
there was a bird
singing in the corner
just a little off-key

woke fitful

tossed and turned

your little toe
ached
for no godly reason

a tingle here
a chill there

i am almost sorry

i just missed
your conversation