Poem , in which we are not immortal but our identities dissolve in- to one another and we are only a little bit afraid to call it love
Convenient Store
Convenient Store This one here is a microwave world, we are sheltering our love from love. I sit down in a convenient store. I drink a cup of coffee. I look at the plastic bottles with pink lids standing on the shelves like proud flamingos. They are indestructible promises of freedom, their feet ringed with ...
“Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can: All of them make me laugh.” — W.H. Auden
A belief is all we have
A belief is all we have to hold on to, some warmth weaning us for darker times when we thicket each other's softest spots, make our fingers lost and blow weightless snow in each other's faces when we make chocolate gestures, blanket soft talk in some rearrangement of tired starlight