m.*




make-believe

my fingers' smell of matches
your skin's taste of paint
making it new
much later the sound of your feet
tiptoeing
through the lake of wime
spilled on your assault
while I was painting on the walls

within a frame of wood on concrete
white on white
I portrayed myself standing
naked
in a darkroom
staring at a picture of you
dancing -
making me believe
you thought of me




Kites

pseudo-freedom of uncut leash -
it's the almost that makes
the bright yellows and blues
look sad around the edges











private eye

I'm spying on you
I'd love to see you naked

(creeping through your backyard,
hiding near your bedroom window,
in the inevitable black cloak
and noiseless sneakers)

holding my breath,
I'll watch your mind undress
and
seek evidence
that you, too,
are human.





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