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call me a body snatcher, i don't mind.
to take yours and put it on my back would
make me flower. i could carry it to
cape town for the weekend and put you
down on table mountain among the mists
where the stones are wrapped in vapours and moss
and the blue hangs below earth in sunshine ripples,
happy ships seem small, warm, slow.
my island drifts in the wispy distance,
an untroubled place of tax free smokes
and coffee comes in near-liters,
the black men walk free. i would show you
to my world and i would never take
you back to where i won't be, the next day,
and then we would start our travels.
do not forget
do not forget, my love, at all
seasofme 040416
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parallaxis
Poetryparallax /ˈpærəˌlæks/ noun 1. an apparent change in the position of an object resulting from a change in position of the observer 2. an appar...
