A near summer soaked nostalgia
sweet backseat demands
Banal Black night memory  
Shared sweat upon our hands

I pull your legs close, summon that smell
braille read breast, i’m near you, soft tactile tell
Of lust longed known of, that potion, so well
in an iris, I fear you, drip sacred, your spell

Still, it’s not your fault
magnets make no choices
Like Homeric Epics
with siren voices:::

Epilogue:I held firm to our makeshift daydream and
wrote an endless novel hoping...
can you will lucid memories true?