Still ahead the heartbreaking
story of how I started
to put some clothes on
to go outside carrying on
a small brass platter
a cup of coffee and
the first and last words
of a beautifully evocative
embryo of a line
(weren’t those parentheses
on the sides of its head)
when a hot desert breeze
like the tongue of a dragon
licked me from head to foot
lifting me right off the ground
only to end me up in bed
with you again.
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