Harvest maize, corn. Farm life fall. Surplus of ingredients. Plants – fruits and vegetables. A silo full of grain with the strength to kill someone – I’ve seen Witness. Recall and remember dried grasses, slash and burn. Ancient history textbooks that must be all wrong and forgotten by now. Some Animorphs villian from YA science-fiction that scared me, just a little as a kid. Pull strong roots out of the dirt and mop the sweat off your brow. Cycling, bicycle pedaling. Pushing forward now and standing, so I no longer touch the seat. Impatient and wanting to catch up. Street skates by me now like watercolors in full motion. Bicycle ride through paintings. Plantains. Words adding to dictionaries all the time. Result of sunshine, rain, and nutrients the soil provides. This land was built on blood and struggle. How does one atone in this world for sins committed 300 years ago or more? Overall straps. Over-stressed denim. Where’s the clarity? I want it and need to happen with a snap of magician’s fingers. When will the doubt stop? Growth of middles and chocolate cake. I’m not liking the way I see it now. Distorted image.


Shun me out. Spectacular waltz I'm dancing with two-left feet with a heart on a headline that reads: "Perfect. Perfect, Spectacular!" in some sarcastic way, dated yesterday. Backs turned with crossed arms. Ocean tides turning, always somehow. Discreet and disillusioned. Candle scones and sconces flickering on walls. Tablecloth threading. Set phasers to shun, like I'm some social outcast deadlifting palm trees alone on some godforsaken island. Cold metal sand once that sun goes down. Wind sounds a little more threaten and ominous, not peaceful anymore. There is disjointed disjuncture. A crack in the riff, in the puzzle. Ostracized for specific criteria or beliefs. Commiserating communication. I don't want to see you anymore, I don't want to know you anymore. If I am shunned, I am not worth your conversation, not worth your time. I am hanging up now. Alone, but on my own. Synchronous possibility. Taste of danger on the tip of my heart. 


Pink lips coming down, calming all senses and sensory. Refusal of being apart, a joining, intimate. Regretful kisses, always searching for the real thing. Accept no substitutes, no imitations. Cheek-to-cheek, top of the head, forehead, hand, clavicle. Wrapped up in love and tenderness. What about heartbreak? A tear wets cheek, strolling, scrolling, rolling down to meet the mouth. Wet goodbye kisses in the dark. Too choked up to say goodnight. Something about being in love makes you feel like you’re walking on roads made of sunshine. Weightless, heightened perception. Kiss on the back of the neck. Giving and receiving. More than Valentine’s Day. More than marriage. More than a big deal. Longing.