the dimple of paranoia –
like the churning of butter or pink goats milk we drank one summer
ears that heard the crackle of a nut cracker opening another seed
genips
walnuts and berry bowls
– mixing the colors fabricating the lines
blurring them until what was green was purple –
murky and dimmed
like the syrup stain of Ms. Butterworth’s betrayal
and her accomplice Aunt Jemima
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When I'm blue it seems like Lucille trying to help me, calling my name.

the fleeting emotion a glimpse you make out coming from within
taking a D and breaking the line in half curving the idle into a B,
compressing the circle of light into ones eye then stretching it wide with rumors of she slept with him ,
the shhh shh sound meant to quiet the unwrapping of candies in church

The way I swayed the night we got drunk on bottles of Jamaican rum - green apple vodka
a bath in whipped cream,
a wadding into raspberries –
the decrease of longing to be with one,
fire that burnt the smudge of my arm and left an oval of a shape.
Replacing and finding a new, the fallacy – the plight the run of love
turned and reverenced in another’s text,
a mixing of words, a inbreed,
scars she wore proudly like a dingy over washed red dress
turned orange in the heat - sun spotted Dalmatians
change that is not immediate or seen,
but seeped within broken trying to repair the vault of the misconception of words that have turned their meanings ,
Like the venom of jellyfish stings
Or shotguns you breathed into my mouth,
The softness of lips pushed together sucking, bee’s to flowers.
passing wine flavored paper between us,
played like song I would play on cold rainy days before I ever met you Erik Satie - Gymnopédie No.1.