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No thorns, limbs sashay longly, cheetah
walk toward
no prey, footloose, her dark blond hair
streaming, no intrusion. (Beer) 'Could I've
one? ' No
harm. 'Lotsa' people hang
out here.' No blame. (Smoke)
'Peace, ' she said,
in Chrystal clear Downeast, an aroma defying words, &
a smile that lights a soggy
joint. 'Peace, '
she says, again,
long as she looks past the sniffing. '...&
you tell me i've got
old lady eyes? There's a pebble in my shoe...' (and those feet!) .
Turning twenty-nine today,
loved me watch her walk away.
7/11/2007
Cretan Maineiac
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