Of Pablo

[littleprince]

We're cruising, love,
through northern days.

Days were covered,
in rain, blue and steel
beneath clouds

pillars, homes,
of pink and weathered gold,
wide light on the canal river:

it all passes so quickly,
left behind

in tears.

We thought before, or have-
The earth: does it swallow the sea?
The firmament: is it swallowed by the earth?

I spy, the blue sky
of the city, the durian
of shimmers, imbue the afternoon sun

These, panels are sharp ornate crowns,
are domes, breasts of
a rusting, rustling city

All the rest is vague,
night without shadow, day
without light, glass you can't see through.

My love, this heart brought you
to these islands
scattered in heartlands,
to turn arounds of
gastronomic delight.

So now we are moving on
like silent ships
not knowing where we've been
or where we're going, alone
in a world of the rat race
and pitiless renewing rubbles.

It's best to shut down,
emulate drizzle and the morning dew.

We'll retire our eyes
and stifle our senses
until we emerge in the sun
and bury our teeth in sweet pristine escape

or madness.