sit in circles, straight lines through them.
rotations left divide and lessen.
lost boys grow minds of men in astroturf gardens.
as different as we see the color green
it is these moments i feel connected.
zen lunatics court hopeless romantics
and stoned imaculates
in matters of truth and perception
at the same time finding and surpassing
intimate connection.
in times of need an old friend brought this life
to my driveway with wine stained teeth and every moment
spent on this patio strengthens belief in waiting for the
good things to find you being you.
1 comment:
Now I wonder, am I more the hopeless romantic or the Zen lunatic?
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