To indulge the juvenile delinquent
in us, divulge if you would delight
in making out for a moment?
Nothing real crazy
just a peck or too
or three will do.
Nose-to-nose who knows
how far we goes, head to toes
maybe.
We
shirk
all
pressure.
Who knew so little soap
could emit so much lavender.
Chagall 2015
Just jiggle your eyes up and down
like you swing when you sway when you dance
Bilingual so cunning we lip-sync till vibration booms flows
like monsoons in a trance
butterflies flutter by
hmm . . . wonder why?
rub-a-dub scrub in the tub small circular backstrokes in front
more nimble then able my horses they fly, saddle one babe bubble-up.
Chagall 2015
Brief stretch of free time,
this three-day weekend
wells up inside of me.
I seek to savor each moment,
from Friday’s sunrise to Sunday’s set,
every tick in between,
with you.
I will time to stop,
flow back to the source,
relive Friday’s glorious morning,
over and over and over . . .
I will hold you there
in my heart’s amber,
as I’ll hold myself
accountable for prescience.
The moment and you
blur till one
whole tone sustains.
Freedom’s breath fills me,
circulates inside me,
breaks the skin barrier,
to meld me with the air,
carries me aloft.
I spread-eagle
atop cross-currents,
the backroom of existence,
careful not to tangle
in the delicate webs
that are spun there.
I’m a torn balloon,
floating on tattered frame,
broken spine.
Free,
if only for the moment.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 