those things heavy confused wonderful
to touch are cool on the shore of a beach
beneath light blue and seagulls effortless
on wind in a field sunkissed flowers by
your brow laying with your body
splendor and grass itchy on backs
pricking at cotton and getting hot sweat
delicately messes your makeup quickly
sprinting on loose noble perfect calves
to the arms of a lake and stabbing it
the pierced cleat of your excellent
figure and it's fire smokey and just
on a beach somewhere up into eve's
unsad cheeks (where there shines
unbelievably minute and gorgeous
stars)