Playing with repetition...
Coffee in
August
I am finish
with bold incense tones
through with
nothing staid; off like the dirty in bed
his drool-worthy
market is dark, deeper than the smells
strawberries
and caramel reveals with complex connections.
Disconnecting,
I trace lines of his voice to off.
Fading Jade
says “this is your future,”
the future often
initially missed; the two hour
layover connects
no longer missing the future
the plane
observes homes grid like life
lines
observed by palmist telling us this is our future.
Far beyond
the future we anticipate leaving the plane,
beyond the
much-loved pictures of the beautiful people
a moment
framed in picture of an unsophisticated
goodbye,
another moment. Plane above clouded sellout homes
the plane
sets turbulence returning to structures of pretty
girls being
first and boys with Rolex watches, watching
pretty girls
as wives are home duplicated to time
duplicate to
proper and the time to dirty in bed.
Plain the
world marbles into networks of six degrees
magazine, the
beautiful people.
I am
finished with bold incense tones
through with
the nothing staid; beyond
the
much-loved, the womanly sophistication
and creamy florals.
On a deeper lever
the complex
connections is the future
smells
nothing like its staid. Against decades
on first
sniff the burnt sugar warms delight
layering familiarity
with unknown
compromising
a future.
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