Aliens In Transit

My split end hair trips the light fantastic as

it freefalls down and around your nowhere

empty heart shaped hole. Winds of nutmeg

histories so similar as to add whimsy

to the turmoil of lust, build walls of solitude

 

…..Your contraband choices,

     my suburban unset jam,

     our firebird distractions…..

 

The train is at the station where choices

matter but my shoes are heeled and

the movie reel is far from finished. This

ISIS hatred beats me to an ignorance, such

that, the shrinking violet can never bloom

 

…..You offer sweet fruit,

     I hunger,

     We diverge.