Hello,

This is Wires, and we will cross again.

Did you and Mojo break the ice?

If I haven’t already told you, you look super, strange.

Super if you look strange: extraordinary.

Are you wearing what you said you would wear?

Everything should be the color of your skin.

It has those remarkable patterns:

Forget the deluge of lace this moment…

I see your ideas and things get REAL again,

And I do remember the words to eat.

They probably get a great view

Of the Sunrise and Set from the aperture, swimming through me.

I do recall taking furious notes negotiating a turning row

With a musical truckload of girls, overjoyed with the well of flesh.

Encore: Kissing and hollering over limber lip loops aching,

And they might have all been you.

I had a chat with your mirror once. In becoming your face it learned to think and speak. It lifted your chin and gave your face a cool light. It made one and then another precious bare leg.

I stared at your big toe, your strut, your depressions, the one-liners; your sultry something else by no means forgotten.

I say this without regret. You come on with this beautiful bandage and heart giving in, confided. You are here and every head Eros:

Would by the word thunderous lovemaking.

Would by the tongue the display of everything.

At hand then, would you want to run?

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit