nectar dewdrop twang twang
her luscious lips prounouncing syllables in another language. . .
she must be speaking gun powder––
fireworks going off in my mind. . . lighting up images of
silky scarlet trance. . .
little humming bird
little swallow tail
my optic nerve is ringing
my auditory canal is flooding with honey
my medulla oblongata is playing a sonata
or is that a waltz you’re talking
yes of course I’m delirious it’s
this heat you know
where did you say you were from?
I know I know
I’m dreaming . . . right?
here comes the
like a meteor