A Love Struck Romeo Sang the Streets a Serenade

Poem and a Picture

From our long oozy becoming we emerged in the night cool damp and breathful condensating and considering it’s been seventeen years or so I was a hard packed armadillo shell scooting along and shaking ancient backyard dirt from my shoulders. I struggled alone and towards the tapping sound of true love. Fairy tale elixir on my dirt tongue and pink fleshy heart tissue. It beats and I move. It pulses, I place. I place myself on the end of the stick that will burn under a flip flop child’s marshmallow and I find you there. You, buried alive and emerging when the audience left. A solitary upward climb no six legged love can help with. And when we found ourselves regarding, our red eyes holding the space, time and infinities within, I start undressing there. There on an unbalanced limb. I stretch shimmy and rub out like the gecko chomping neatly at the skin between her toes. I shrug this itchy conformity pain armor down to my bees knees, my jointed tools and miniscule strength. You saw me valiant and vulnerable and you started shaking down too. Creep twisting and removing. Belt, shoes and collared shirt. Bra, socks and an overhead shiver. Naked, I want to. Naked, I dream to. Naked, I fall from creation and I let you hold me in love that’s no sin and no judgement. The nature decrees to lay eggs in the trees and as you fill me with seed I spurt back in my purpose. We were cracked out of old wineskins and a past tense calcified in memory, posing. I decided to go with you, but it’s not a rational thought. Love could never. I could ever. I lay bare a soft underbelly and you caress it with care. Let us ever be gentle with each other in this naked eternity. There’s no end that I know of. Let the scientists say. Let me stay forever destined to perish while our mixed alchemy offspring burrow deep to suck the tree roots between their raw gums and swallow. As they grow their hard shame shells beneath loam and soil seeking, we have flown off into the story of oblivion. We have turned to face each other and we have vanished with just a trace of the life, the casing, the cracked appearance we left behind.