cake and summer

ginger green newts skipping over your
facial features and feet; meek kitten-
whiskered worker-bees and droning
high-eyed snails at the foot of your tree.
wise owls and cro-magnon men buy
illiteracy in shell-pink currency and
bamboo lovers curl sharp ribbons
over the dusky grass. it is july; time
doctored by hoaxmen and mafia ticks
off like old profligates and the tyre
tracks skip over the faces on the road.

I lick my lips to taste the dust gusting
off the road you left by. "darling," I say
"your backward tongue and your feats
of daring captivate me and I do believe
I am all contented to lie in the sun beside
your jean-jacket shed shell." I sleep; I know
you'll come back for it before summer ends.