Slipping under the synonymous veil
in the early ambrosial hours of twilight.
How we played as if it had never happened.
And if I had not woke inside the dream
we would have succumbed to erotic longings.
They had not had their chance to fully rise.
They go on as if expected to happen again
Full spead ahead as the
Blue Danube plays across the skies
in the deep corn feilds of a small town.
As the hazy night drives me into its sea
I dream the possibilities
Never reaching an end..
I can relax....no
I have to figure out the way to bring the mind
I have to see the combination
I have to see
and meditate some more
Thoughts fly their tenure and spin out
The nature of fantasy draws me to reality
and I idly grasp at what is in reach.
though the seasons haven't encountered their
last drop of wine;
it is mine to find;
the texture of reality;
finely keyed rhythms of foreclosure..
How timely has it all been?
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