Take the pith from the orange
As I watch the land ice fanning out
Like an ancient afternoon
Swimming through this intermezzo
I could paint you in Cythera
With indefatigable eyes
A vital, muttering red born from
The mess I made last night
Driving past the shisha bar
I crave you like sugar
Like pleasure echoing in my bones
Coming back to you again
I trace my fingers over the architecture
Coiled in green pastures and fractured light
Bruised by nocturnal fantasies
In the angling zone like a lark in candlelight
I throw my dirty underwear on the floor
I\'m drunk again, dreaming about him again
Lighting another cigarette again
I wake to the mildew, to the petrichor
Throbbing like a storm in July
I remember the serendipity of meadows
Perfect stains and brushstrokes
Kissing my beard like it\'s my first time.