hellsforheroes

So here I am, and was
years back.
And the summer rolled
grass rolled.

The smells were firework splendor
the nature burning.
I was young, damn young
and wild (purple kool-aid).

I had suffered alone.
I had frozen in heat.
I was broke
but I got it going.

So this summer
she was hem length.
Round.
Best I ever saw.

Rods, Wheels, Pistons
Tiny box
Cat marbles
Picket fences

Willing
Strong
Not me
Ever

but smiling.
Now
I think years back
about smelling glory

I see crickets as harps
red rivers as blue minimalism
I knew myself
it was a picnic.

It rains on occasion
like Vietnam
never ending
and with shell shock.

To me
her pussy was
a buttery finishing cabernet sauvignon
and her love a handicap railing.

But the Sumerians
lived long happy lives
by kissing on a mountain
and getting blown coming down.

I just wanted to eat her.
Forever.
Her voice.
Absolute everything.

Food.
Breathe.
Salvation.
Umbilically sweet.

I want to vomit
like an octopus
and eat
cottage cheese.

Now and, then
when fires run up and down
and crystals make movies
I dream of deserts.

I dream of dairy land
and farm girls.
I still watch, her sunsets
just not from the fantasy.