His eyes,
the soothing color of dirt-brown earth
(the earth in which we were both raised in),
meet mine.
An instantaneous, taciturn connection
connects
him and I;
Rippling muscles on his back
He draws near.
An overwhelming urge
Like the gurgling springs
Like right before a leap
Like the force of gravity
Appears
For me too...
...climb on the back
of my dear,


crocodile.
(see poem about sewer.)
your green skin yields my love
for fishy-flavored flesh
dipped in soy sauce
complementing the
glass of lemonade with
3 1/2 floating ice cubes
--quite a refreshing "brunch"--
on a summer morn.

To dine with my love,
--dine my love,
dine as my love,
dine on my love,
dine between the skin and bones of my love--
I would...
gather all the daffodils
that can be harvested on a flea
and turn them into irises
that smell of the sea
(in discordant melody)