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Northbound Longing
June 4, 2014
We’re a triangle of longing
Incompressible and warm
Heated by some foreign sunlight
Forged from faulty form
We’re a cylinder of asphalt
Aspiring to be concrete
Melting through the blades of grass
Burning yogis’ feet
We’re a tangent of Pennsylvania
Yet mired by the bog
Our lusts and quirks and passions
Masked by salty fog
We’re parallel lines of love
Stuck six inches apart
With lips conjoined and heart cancerous
By Venus’ servant’s dart
I’m a line of longing
Straightened one-eighty degrees
Ripped lips bled dry of honey
Kneeling on nude knees
© Alyssa L., Muleshoe, TX
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