Sunday, August 2, 2009

our weapons were our instruments; made from timber and steel

terahertz eyes
wobble flies, high as a kite
heart flutter - beat touch
jaw bounce and tongue writhe

she has the lips that lie, they say "never"
but you can hear her heart beat "maybe"
the smile, the smile

the smile that lies
the legs that quiver at her very sight

she says I have the face of a jazz saxophonist
and she loves me.

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