Sunday, 24 April 2011

Qu'est-ce que tu racontes?

Cacao melted
Like her daughter
On my shirt.

'WE are the parents.'
She doesn't believe
In monogamy or mind breaths.

Truck tires and magic
Mushrooms sizzling

She says it's amour propre
That ships on a bus

At traffic lights

I hold show them a frame
On my camera kiss
And ask

'Have you seen this woman?'

No comments:

Post a Comment