cancel your plans, darling -
we're feignin' tonight.

i ain't tasted your fancy brow
since i last ran up trees.

i know you miss
the way my tossing hair
always filled the air with
moonlit berries and
wild
wild
grapes,

so thick
your mouth
gave way to
tsunamis.

i've got cold noodles sittin'
in my bowl somewhere
because i forgot to remind myself that
that ain't food that's
fillin' my belly -

channelin' me your orange hues
dipped in frustrations so subtle,

but
not
subtle
enough.

your frisky hot hemp dance
is flingin' itself
all over my inside stuff -
curbin' my appetite
for just about
anything else.

i'll climb your tree anyday
sweet baby,
kissin' greens
in your sleeves
on that minxy leaf trip.

carry me to your sneaky cove
and share your spices
and wanton skin graces.

i'll trade you my
fingertips
and diamond
extravaganzas,
then we can take turns
dippin' our tongues
into the blend.

'cause
i've blotted out my agenda
to savour the splendour
so i can remember to
spit it back into
the faces of
the dark
cloaked ones.

this is my defiant-nosed
iron song,
in my steel-toed boots.

see, i'm feelin' mahself
and the randy white cub
ticklin' my sides
in our crazy cahoots,

with our incense and spirits
from the worshipers of
sane things -
who fill our airs
with a long overdue
white haze.