The Longing
You are sucking my Paloma.
My eyes are melting out of their sockets as you roll around in my sheets.
The Irises are blooming in the height of the good old Indian Summertime.
Here I am with my tootsie wootsie,
Babe.
The art is flying upon the walls.
The walls are flying us.
We are flying the walls.
Sweat rolls off of our bodies in buckets
As the electric fan takes the Mississippi Queen ride across Andromeda
All the way to The Southern Cross.
Pining, we enter the wake of the riverboat,
And surf like spotted dolphins
Diving and spinning
In the eternal wakefulness of near consciousness-
A lucid dream-
As Pablo is ticking my neruda in
New Zealand.
Faith, you say, is the aphrodesiac.
Emily is awake now and not receiving any visitors.
When you disembark from the boat,
Remember to carry my heart with you
Since that mandolin is rough around the edges.
El Aye!
25AUG16, A Thursday, 1616HRS EDT
Copyright 2007-2016
Frank L. Stellars
My eyes are melting out of their sockets as you roll around in my sheets.
The Irises are blooming in the height of the good old Indian Summertime.
Here I am with my tootsie wootsie,
Babe.
The art is flying upon the walls.
The walls are flying us.
We are flying the walls.
Sweat rolls off of our bodies in buckets
As the electric fan takes the Mississippi Queen ride across Andromeda
All the way to The Southern Cross.
Pining, we enter the wake of the riverboat,
And surf like spotted dolphins
Diving and spinning
In the eternal wakefulness of near consciousness-
A lucid dream-
As Pablo is ticking my neruda in
New Zealand.
Faith, you say, is the aphrodesiac.
Emily is awake now and not receiving any visitors.
When you disembark from the boat,
Remember to carry my heart with you
Since that mandolin is rough around the edges.
El Aye!
25AUG16, A Thursday, 1616HRS EDT
Copyright 2007-2016
Frank L. Stellars