You’re Mines

You’re Mines, I You’s

Boom boom bap
In a black Cadillac
My cracked leather shoes.
Souls beneath
Sparked and lighted slow
And your clothes send the signals
What you trying to do?
The righteous have got nothing on you.
Slow down slow and the light in between
Leave a little room for the holy ghost
But ghosts or no
Now I’m feeling you.
And you, who knows
How long have you been doing this?
This, this, this
Clutching at quarters
At a half past Two.
Lapping that up
Feeling brand, brand new.
The drink comes through
The little hole in the cup.
Down, down deeper and dapper than he
Who he?
Liquid poly risom
Round and round, a dance floor,
A low lit lightning place,
Twirling, two furlongs,
And thought loving,
And no thought having genome.
And I don’t give a damn,
I felt the ground give up.
The light narrows down.
There are too many bodies in this darkness.
Too many frat boys dancing with you,
So gone,
Let these meds flow.
I have a queen size bed at home
And an elevator that’ll elevate us straight there.
We, barefoot now,
Dancing in the dark,
How many bodies do you count?
Just enough?
And go down where?
I’ll make this thing last.
It’s only a quarter to four.
An inverted sleeping beauty,
A top-down midnight queen,
Who’s top is down
And whose breasts are out.
Opaque and orange in the light that my lamp makes.
The lamp that was made for this.
Now, no sheets, dark to hide the stains
Of missed marked children
A stones throw away,
Just a little more moisture babe.
You’ll feel me soon,
On those lips that were made for this,
Birthed and raised to say words,
But used for this, when silently, half-parted, red and white.
White as the walls that were made for this.
Hide and muffle the sounds,
Adalle, feel it in your stomach babe.
What parts should I bite?
With my teeth that were made for this,
Hardened to tingle, moan, and lighten,
We don’t need all these fluids babe,
Let’s let themout.
They were made to be remade,
Magnesium, iron, sorbet.
Born to oblige you,
And maybe a few others.
A sea, frothing and moving, and moaning at the mouth.
What nymph are you?
And which knight am I?
What night is this?
What many mad times,
Bad times,
Two girls in the ride times
Both with late bed times.
You’re mines, I you’s.
Make me like you
Make me forget me.

More: Poetry

[The photo above, I took in Viequez, Puerto Rico in 2011]



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