Part 6 (2/2)

Well-travelled, maybe, though potential liability, here, suggestive of footloose.

Restless. Perhaps given over to bouts of hedonism--a dangerous portent.

Feel I've stumbled back in time, holding court with Cesare Borgia, Lorenzo the Magnificent significantly transformed to a Renaissance courtier.

Harpsichord and madrigal in hand (& head,), I recite my litany.

I pack a mean wallop-- humour, I mean, for no one on this spic 'n span planet wants somebody too droll.

Intensity is a ripple from the sixties.

”Relations.h.i.+p”, kickback to the after-glow on-glow seventies.

Eighties women love ”feedback”, ”interfacing”. Its fas.h.i.+onable to think chic. Restless troubadours should be dyed in their own ilk.

Sporty chaps are in demand, ones with visceral longing for babies & the peroxide smell of Javex in diaper pails wafting thru their nostrils.

Heady brew, Perrier & BMW types.

Chrome-plated men with the razzle-dazzle of the Boardroom tugging at their cufflinks.

Mutual funds equates with mutual interests.

The man's wishes?

A dollop of Dijon mustard on you!

Hitting the nail on the head.

Holding up her middle finger to dry nail polish, I see my future and, golly, does it ever s.h.i.+ne.

TALES OF BRAVE ULYSSES

Artists (astrologers never lie) are birthed when Venus is rising-- not against cat's whelp (eye of newt, tongue of frog) calamitous mist or London fog; far, ferny forbidding fenn.

When Venus rises, yes dons Botticelli's cloak or was it her hair gathered in tresses long by lovely handfuls parading it all on a patty sh.e.l.l --her twin oysters ambrosia a Ulyssean mirroring winedark sea, purpling color of a robin's egg.

Artists are born in something of Venus . . .

conceived along coral-corral highway lariats, foam of pa.s.sion modern cowgirl lowering the drapes.

INSIDE SEAM

Having wilderness cracks in emotional facades c.h.i.n.ks within to let cabins in.

2 Porous wind examining pavement, foot-sore maybe loose winding entrails of our hearts into lavatory paper; would that it pleased riddled trees --more whistling, poked holes across oasis tracks wandering s.p.a.ces.

3 Blistering thought, paint flecks chipped in the mica-afraid heat of wan-ton pa.s.sion; (acknowledging debts to Chinese cuisine) a wan smile left from which I pretend to remember all.

4 Love-smitten to lend the reach of your arm-- sighs, droop to hips heaving a droll verandah (like curtain's edge across the exhausted wall).

5 Besmirched stain, The lavender hoop of your belt is a winding lizard's skin or perspiring rope to anchor the filmy edge of letters written, not sent.

The breeze, quiet wind-- a chipmunk with woodchips poked into a grin.

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