Between brain and skull
Lies the cream of memory,
Distilled love,
Cheese-clothed infatuation.
Between brain and skull
Rises the O-Zone, internal cloud
Of pin-heads with choirs and hosts.
The pulp beneath the skin.
It's not in my heart,
So fragile
You could be passed by,
Where a dead man's loves lived.
You don't keep shop there,
But between brain and skin
In chronological flashbacks
Like real time re-runs
And infitismal longings
For beliefs.
You are infused there.
Squeezed as grapes,
Rightly aging,
But not to be tasted
Again.