my chest is tight
my mind is swinging from lamps
inside my tight frame
my heart is dancing under them;
the tango – all the way
across the floor
reigned in by my ribs.
I can’t breath waiting
for isles of colors and smells
and moments in elevators
when the world isn’t watching;
just ever enough for a kiss.
With every item needed
is innuendo of joy
hidden behind dreams
of dinners in rose gardens
and Portuguese kitchens
lost in a nook of George Town;
dreams again and again
that will not give way
to the chores of the day;
will not succumb to the rules
of our understanding:
dreams that are all beauty
behind the ordinary lives
of loves crossing
those rare lines of time and place;
those moments that
are all dreams:::::
I will not wake!
screaming at low volumes
