In the history of romance and the annals of love,
we wrote a new chapter on how the earth moves,
and slips off it's grooves of tectonic countours.
Dancing on quicksands, our manoeuvres are skewed.
From cool penthouse rooves to hot sweaty sewers,
we are the hewers of love!
My wits are up-ended.
I am stumped and extended.
A part of me, looks down, from above.
I cannot recover.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005