two black dots

there’s a wild feeling

a painting of those flying horses

streaming, on a warbled water border

unsettling steady thrum of vacuum

racing all the same; —

falling through shaded layers   staying

bright glows of aerial sand

bottomless, engorged & insatiable

a grasp of a prayer timeless and strong

it weeps —

pillowy blue and rose hues stretching

to miles past my suspended window

a gleaming golden sliver and

dulcet tones of mechanic beeps

hand in hand, hewn rough and carved

knuckles in crinkled circles    — I love!

holding imaginary

a physical thought

two black dots

his finger and my lip

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