The summer air sings to the other seasons
that it is better to forget everything.
that it is better to forget everything.
This is complimentary of pastry.
What is ordinary in the afternoon
is a stool pigeon to the night's confidence.
This is a secret that sustains epicureans
and their tipsy contrivances,
as litter contextualises urban squirrels.
The thing that kisses and smiles share
are lips. This is the degree to which
we can sense a prograde orbit.
This is the degree to bewitch.
I would forsake the most coveted watch
to recall the name of that crepuscular street
and the time it took me to turn a corner.