She fell asleep as a feather

falling.

The sky was as blue as her eyes

and the sudden sound was like a rooster crowing.

The cat smiled sheepishly as the moon winked at me

and the grass barked fiercely.

Trees kissed me sweetly--

smelled of hot copper.

Blinding blue light showed the certainty

of innovative strawberries and whipped cream.

The ground was like cotton candy in my mouth

while her lips were as sweet

as the feel of satin.

Rolling in the grass in Southport, NC,

with Sara Thorpe's hair caught in my eyes--

well, it wasn't really in my eyes,

and we were dancing on the sand.

There wasn't any grass.

Standing in a corner for erotica,

the schmuck went postal for spam--

because we liked bread and drank a toast.

The quirky crutches of thought and

sultry sweetness--

they were angry sunflowers

and she was a promiscuous nun.

We fell into the sun

and grew breasts.

Mox was there, leading the fray

and next week's tomorrow showed him nirvana.

A sexy pizza bought us

chicken wings and edible underwear.

I'll have to remember so I can forget:

une belle personne, du corps et de l'esprit--

The toaster takes messages for me

even as she sleeps with a loving smile.