Sunday, February 17, 2008
giraffe tongues leave a lot a room for being speechless
when they wallpaper your dreams with deranged deer and trap you unmoving inside your own body, blinking is like lifting a skyscraper. let the candle light come up slow. the words moved without our having to push them, or breathe life into them. they had a color, a shape. we grew libraries. we led a blind prophet to the liquor store. we walked inside saturday night like a hallway. there were horses nibbling your fingers. the city was made of watercolors. our footsteps held hands. the tea tasted like mint. i told you my name. we ate until the chairs turned upside down. there were so many questions. there are still more. and now that i know your lips taste like soft, i want to kiss them again.