sometimes you are with me when I bike
right in the middle of my eyes
you look through
as if recreating tides
sometimes you rise
stretch my tailbone
cross my neck all along
and silently whisper love and hate words
until you painfully adjust yourself towards a subtle opening
hidden under a golden crown
you tie us by secret subtle lines
as if a puppet-pendulum
anchored to a bluish-green star
somewhere far away
as far as a single jump-rope swing
which I may call home sometime
is that why you send me signs
while I listen
like that lady bird today …
perfectly matching to the colors of an eloquent orange brown pottery
by which geishas serve
a ceremonial rice bowl the labels tell
exhibited behind glass only
my silhouette
reflected in dim lights
becomes a dance of invisibility
hiding teardrops
along a museum corridor
covered with cherry blossoms
I ignore I say all the stupid signs
continue a play
with the luck bug
alight on my right side
observe its dotted natural beauty
forget all there is around me
oh yes she knows me
I farewell her over a giant photograph of a well respected lady
make it a living part of her brooch and dream away
if - maybe she’d be me
some lifetime ago
and you the lover
of our lingering sad story…
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
sometimes you are with me when I bike
right in the middle of my eyes
you look through
as if recreating tides
sometimes you rise
stretch my tailbone
cross my neck all along
and silently whisper love and hate words
until you painfully adjust yourself towards a subtle opening
hidden under a golden crown
you tie us by secret subtle lines
as if a puppet-pendulum
anchored to a bluish-green star
somewhere far away
as far as a single jump-rope swing
which I may call home sometime
is that why you send me signs
while I listen
like that lady bird today …
perfectly matching to the colors of an eloquent orange brown pottery
by which geishas serve
a ceremonial rice bowl the labels tell
exhibited behind glass only
my silhouette
reflected in dim lights
becomes a dance of invisibility
hiding teardrops
along a museum corridor
covered with cherry blossoms
I ignore I say all the stupid signs
continue a play
with the luck bug
alight on my right side
observe its dotted natural beauty
forget all there is around me
oh yes she knows me
I farewell her over a giant photograph of a well respected lady
make it a living part of her brooch and dream away
if - maybe she’d be me
some lifetime ago
and you the lover
of our lingering sad story…
