Thursday, February 17, 2011


Let us ululate to the half crescent sun, in our pajamas of skin from the rarest of national monuments, Let he sun come and go, i will still be here.

We are never at home unless their is adventure in the air or the sun continues to shine on my bare neck. i am speeding along the river, i and our passenger full of people. relatives, distant and close, friends,  strangers and liquor bottles. "Fill my cup", as the oither hands steers this monstrosity along at a cool 1000000 miles down this god fearing river, exotic, birds fly over head, letting out squawks along their fight, "you do not belong" stop mowing the lawn. Stay out my jungle, it is my own. But i do not listen, we do not listen,  we are the jaguar, we are the shark, speedily cutting the river with our hull.

The road is dust and i am holding your hand, night, cool and calm and i, we are being eaten alive, in this the jungle of my soul. You hold my hand and i hold yours and i feel no sex, no desire, no heating in my private parts, instead we are the children in the yard, boy and girl, but sex doesnt not divide us. We are simply you and i and here we are walking in the unpaved, untamed road  of my jungle.

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