You can finger the olfactory visitor--uninvited to the evening
with one whiff nostalgia bent
lending syrup to the memory
Nirvanic she! I'm drifting
if a shroud this cloud could be
I'd Juliet--yet, if I did,
I'd miss the fruit I suck in dreams.
Eyebrow and lip aligned:
they heed my General beak,
right flanks assemble
ascending to smirk
atop high tide on threaded string.
they heed my General beak,
right flanks assemble
ascending to smirk
atop high tide on threaded string.
I'm winking, but not hoodwinked.
Briefly, blithely I pretend.
