Sugar down the syrup in the Queen Anne's laceShining in the light of nightshadeCultivating unsophistication in my faceTrying to think of nothing to sayGrapes gone sour and the spinach went to seed(it was spindly and sick from the outset)Waiting for the hour with a wherewithal to leavePatient as a dog for its master Aubergine The Labrador was locked through the promontory rockShe called down, said time is an illusionAn inconsequential shift as the continents driftBut my confidence was crushed and I miss you regardless AubergineAubergine
Aubergine:
You can be your body but please don't mindif I don't fancy myself mine - you at 32 still tied to your poor mother's apron strings! Sorrel in the gravel and the saffron robeSleeping like a shark in the cord grassuntil I saw how far I traveled down the solipsistic roadI climbed out to ask for directionsThere was not a pond in sight and here I'm gasping like a fishIn the desert with a basket full of eggplantswho asked about the passage of the Bible on my wristsBut I couldn't catch my breath enough to answer
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