There she was
with lollipop legs
and cream soda curls
as she kissed the crown
of her camel 99
and a cascade of carcinogen smoke
drifted up from cherry red lips
and she looked at me with neon blue eyes
and the liquor on our breathes
spelled both our demise
as we played cat and mouse games
under beaten black and blue skies
When it was all over
and I had tasted those cherry red lips
and felt the alabaster sway
of her marshmallow hips
she said it wasn't very often
you felt highs like this
we both let out a sigh
and then parted with a kiss.

What did you do to your hair?

It is not fashion or regarded as a
good sight, for sightseers whom fight
for the best sight to see.

Nor is it complementary to your main meal face,
no condiment would ever accompany you,
let alone a boy in a start of the month, moon-a-new,
relationship-race.

It is not natural, nor be it an attempt to
blend into your surroundings at large,
as a red and blue fringe
will never be camouflage.

So, what did you do to your hair?

Her body used to be humming
With ideas. Words like sand filling
Her boots and zipping around her
Insides. Leaping from ***** to *****,
Splashes and jack-knives into A positive veins
Glitter metaphors filling lungs,
Thick phrasing weighing down intestines like
Dried mud on tires.
Now everything is static and stuttered
And to wake it up we’ll need
To take the the pin out of this grenade.

A paradox in itself
But then I saw her there across
the room
through flocks and flocks of 'beautiful'
silly seagulls --
              frivolously flocking,
                                            pecking at
the shiniest trash that flutters by
Only to swallow
pass
flock, peck again
-----------------------------------------------------------­---
She intrigued my mind
   through
the eye I saw her beak was flat                                y
no craning,
                  crooning neck                                   l
                                           and could not f
for she had no wings
... maybe we do not care to fly!
------------------------------------------------------------­--
Like the Red Sea
She-Moses split through the flock
to me,
beakless
surrounded by chronically cocking faces
all but one,
                                                            ­          all alone
She had been                                                     too
-------------------------------------------------------------­
Now next to me
                                                              ­                                        No wandering eye could care
in soundless conversation
proclaimed we
                       are together
as one we surely gleamed as gold
too bright for gulls to see
              ...Mastur-consolation?
------------------------­-------------------------------------
And so it's true
we were                   alone
                               together
perfect paradoxical bliss