of zebras

geraldo on a plate

i hand you geraldo on a plate; that little fat gecko i gift you;

something live that is yours, besides me. mý blood is warm

for you; i feel it flow in its own current through the

icy ocean waters whence the sun burns the sands

to where the quiet waits for storms; patience and knowing,

still and prepared, always accepting and for ever, giving.

and that thread of warmth is a tie that still binds after time

flowing and circling, ever moving between here and there

sometimes faint and thin , mostly seeming like a slim full river.

i do not live under the fridge and my droppings are discreet

and my blood is warm, like i said, but i am here always;

you may not see me, but i live and breathe. know that.

always here. always here. i am always here.

just under the fridge.

where i am waiting

zebras can swim and float like dogs do, but they do not particularly like it.

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