Friday, March 11, 2016

When you rain my oblong freedom capitulates

We had drowned recently and then resurfaced
Miraculously revived by an orange grower with his pole and hook
Driving along dirt and gravel road stopping only
To save us then onto his work picking fruit to ship up North

You unburdened yourself of my need
Left the circle of arms around my neck to dangle
Speechless in the now cooling sun as shadows reached
Instead to hold me and cut across my skin-scape

We paused and smoked and thought about food
Surrounded by oranges and breathing sweet acid
Dimming evening feeding into our hunger loop
So together off we went to find a good hot meal


Post a Comment

<< Home