I smelled a flower,
wild thorns of eastern lights
in the mountains
and below the sun,
raisins in hand above
the clouds. High of nectar
and sweet tasting dew. Coupling
waxy papyrus and sipping the sweet
morning juices from the legs. I take
a nap upon firm bamboo, make my
pillow in soft soil. I swing from vines,
lifting my legs high above the Apollo
Launch, not number 13 or any unlucky
fixture. I lean back into thick perspiration,
still looming between fog and playing hide
and seek with toucans snacking abrasions.
Smacking these liaisons, holding hands
with you and drawing these coordinates
in the sand. I stand on the highest mounting
doing the silliest things, trying to yodel and
call out names of history's best. What I
can't seem to manage is your name. I am
nature's advocate. Windbreaker all soiled,
boots all moist. Cargoes call torn and hat
lopsided performing. These things in life
are free, and these are the best things in life.
