Can’t Afford The Thought

To Do IT, To think it is mercury pool
cupped in childlike hands where Tinkerbell plays.
but there is poison in the chalice and mixed metaphors
will take your dreams and bam you’re down again.
back in Ophelia’s stream with flowers let go to the currents
whim. Odin and Homer would have something to say
to a keyboard today. Maybe an axe or a sword or some fairy tale lord.
To me who was given little reading and who took less in return
the spotlights behind my eyes remain unlit wicks unburnt.
It’s little lights in procession of silver streams in moonlight
and whispered secrets learned that makes it special to kiss to touch.
But there’s no rush, no rush, dear. Take your time and let us turn this tea into wine. No burning bush, no secret woe to tell the falling leaves this season.
just place your palm in my own and think about your breathing.
it rolls like the clouds in the heavens above with no time to go.
Persephone take this down. I need new trousers to make me gleam.
I need a bottle of aftershave and some new shirts too. And a jacket or two.
Forget the material things. Let us enjoy this fling. This New Thing.
Just sign the receipt and the charges will be made to your credit card my dear. Have no fear your creditworthyness I what i hold so dear.
My dear where was I? Did I jolt your daydream? Is your tea cold. let it be nuked in the microwave. Did you know that you could be killed by a dream?
I know. I know. I have never shared that sorrow before tommorow. will you see me then? Fitted out like Lord Of The Glen? And you will be my Lady. I don’t know where this will end!

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