She measures up grains of sand
alone on the beach
feet dipped into the sea.
The wind trades with the moon
pulls her back to Manchester
her heart thickens
- wonders who's bottlin'up tonight.
You can place your desire for him in a bottle,
and I will send it to him on the ocean.
Bottle? It's just mathematics -
a simple equation - she loves him
she loves/him not
him/her, eye to eye.
Blind man to a brailled page,
counts out the letters,
like pulling a daisy apart
petal by petal.
All love is calm and chaos.
Little-girls love songs
Mad-girls love poetry
Angeline loves .........
She loves,
turn a man on a sixpence,
spin him like a top to her hipbone.
So why is he, like butter to her?
hot knifed words spool between them
and still they make toast!
He craves her voice like good red wine
a classy merlot, lots of tannin.
She gulps his words, like a pint of Boddies.
Drink him, you know how to swim.
He claims she's a witch, a bitch
with white magic in her fingers.
Her spells cast from ears to heart
then twists him.
He says call me-
I will always be,
then he won't answer the goddamned phone!
She bites her lip, tentitively dials
he whispers things that would make a nun blush.
Irrascible and cantankerous he chides her, and then calls her
back to read Rimbaud, like a pilgrim with a bible.
She confuses him/he worries her.
He aches for her, can't stand her to be near,
wants her flesh touch.
The woman in her, unfolds like filaments
every time he reads her skin,
she covers herself
embarrassed by his thoughts,
her lust.
You open up, always, for him.
Opens! Is it dumb
or mathematics-schematics
Einstein would equate.
Freud would get on the couch.
Jung would jump into a gene pool.
just simple additions
of love with love
equals time/motion
love without love,
the pendulum swings.
Gold trophy winner
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Love, Lane
