held
her in my arms
immersed
in her charms
she
was tokyo tea
so
hot passion burned
like
a five alarm fire
in
l.a. without a rhyme
love
has always been sublime
and
i’m the congregation
in
search of a house of worship
it
was an all night event
she
taught me to reinvent
and
escape the recent moments
that
makes me feel as if
life
is like a doctor’s waiting room
i
was born in l.a.
she
was born far away
my
fingers traced her exotic face
that
floated on surfaces of sorrow
for
a night we both tried to borrow
more
than memories of the mundane
she
kissed my tattoo of a crane
gotten
on a night i don’t remember
and
when i entered the shops
of
little tokyo
the
clerks would see it and bow
still
i don’t know how
to
make more than these moments
of
flesh matter
my
thoughts are always scattered
but
the salt of her skin on my tongue
helped
me to focus
the
murky pond and the lotus
her
purity breaking the surface
and
reaching for the warmth of the sun
but
the harsh light of day
sent
me on my way
after
exposing that
copulation
on cotton sheets
is
all i really have to offer
been
here before
the
morning after whore
light
a cigarette
on
a sidewalk in l.a.
while
all that surrounds
the
concrete and sounds
cannot
stop this plummet
and
the inevitable fatal crash
***
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