i am the theme
my friend makes a suggestion
she want to be nice
her perspective is distant
without binoculars
my engineering mind betterstates
her warm and woolen effort
disappears in logical blahs
of the ice king
i put my hand on the chest
something pulsates
must be the ice machine
that feeds the zeros and ones
to the top
the mountain stream tickles on
my fried throws geysirs into my ear
at last the top of the iceberg melts
new words emerges beneath
am able to say
i agree - you're right
no qualification smartness
feels good
smiles are added to words
No comments:
Post a Comment