Just like Paris, it’d be the first place I’d go to
If I were to suddenly fall in love
It has a cupid’s bow, two banks, but no bridges to go through
Because there is no water, neither between them nor above.

It can be found on the South side of the green land
And gets its color from internal rivers running underground
Its surface is softer than the palm of a baby’s hand
With borders that expand each time its owner makes a sound.

Water regularly passes through, right before promptly disappearing
Leaving only behind a few dripping drops, or only a transient sensation of hydration.
There are no monuments ever emerging
But the repetition of apparent ridges begs for contemplation

A succession of narrow valleys and high hills
Shaping a unique pattern worn by a queen
Creating an irrepressible desire to get closer and closer
Until the city cannot be seen
But appears to have been projected on a mirror
Having now a Siamese sister
A sister that I hope would never leave
As this connection would wake in me a fever
The kind that people would want to experience forever.