swollen with shadows

don't try to save me. that's what your blue
eyes telegraph to the man across the table.
you don't have blue eyes. you don't understand
time , you don't understand vanishing,
or even shared lights, exploding inside
a mulitcolored parabola
stretched over the rim of a lens.

on the radio there's love on two planes
lust on spit take. the distance grows
but not much else. over feritilized or under
utilized amounts to the same brown fields.

gotta get you outta my head. your lips are split
cherries and marischino juice.
car doors, slamming against the grill. he takes
a long pull from the bottleneck, moves a little to the right
feints left, gone. your eyes are the wonder colored
sky to the east, upside a storm
with the sun falling slow in the west.
you look on the vine, but it's empty.
find yourself inside fuzzy skin, being plucked.