Friday, August 10, 2012


When I look for myself I find

that I am sitting
in a bar

with a face which has lost
the energy of expectation,
irises unfocused behind
an opalescent fog,

sipping a tonic through the thin line

of a black straw.

On all sides

by my autonomy,
allowing limited discourse.

If you are

a friend

your words feed me orchids.

Without Flora

no impressions

leave watermark.

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