in bodily form like shadows of clouds
low
asphalt without flowers.
You ask "how much it weighs, in terms of net
wonder my eye that follows
improvised rhythm of your step"
seem dreamy
the last of the spectators in a dimly lit jazz bar in Belleville.
say "back in the spring,
is not true that * Waits sings, you can return it
Spring!
Would you kiss me now?"
Shadows of clouds low, rolling down the throat-
hair as teenagers.
"But kiss me now!" -
and an army of golden flakes.
How will I not succumb?
For too long, the eyes seemed
subtitles of a bad movie and now your
, true as the screeching of the wind that
colorful banners while you become an ally
say "kiss me but now, now that I found you!" The leaves seem
confetti
a carnival-old
spectra of divinity
Temptation "Kiss it now!" Cheeks red as childish
bites the pillow.
I could offset the arms of solitude, this web
of an old-fashioned loyalty and support
mouth about your
only now I see that as a moon of July
furious-
resigned in a sky that falls down on me if I act
- a skeptic schiaccciato a miracle-
" Kiss me now, baby monster "and I
with the nail on the painful shoulder
" bite me then "- with his mouth and wisdom
of rum-" bite me,
shoulders, eye, bite me, eat me
, lie to me, but Be true!
out of that world to which swings like a carousel
off in a field of autumn ... " And I
on your lips.
* You can never hold spring-back Tom Waits
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