Time is wonton soup,
And that tall boy you stole last night
Is still inside your trunk.

Cigarette smoke and sunscreen air
Perfume the burning grass.
When all is placed on greenfly's wing
He tumbles forward - brash.

Cool pursuit, and time lapse too,
Persist the stagnant air
Of summertime and sweet plum wine,
Cocoons, a golden snare.

Black lace ******* disarray
I want to know your plans,
From shallow noon till dusty dusk
With warm and calloused hands.