The Mirage is Real

Say yes! goddammit.

The mirage is real.

*

Poaching the small hours
the laptop’s glow, the cursor’s death
I’ve come here to breathe and write
and I’m all out of breath;

holding you
responsible for the increase of hospital bed mentions
in my poems.

*

We meet one night outside that busy bar
on Orion’s belt –not sure which star of three, I confuse their names–
and you tell me about this life, here, and I tell you it never happened;

always
architecting the unimaginable.

*

Now, counting without numbers;

tongue tendentious, tigers in her eyes
she walks with a step that revolutionizes summers
waiting

 

 


the mirage is real

Kandinsky – Three Riders in Red, Blue and Black