A Brief Encounter


And the words erupted
like flowers, your marvelous
array of oceans opening you
to my fervor. I’m excited
for the trees to catch fire,
aroma of lavender thrust
into a hulking cauldron.
Somebody wants to feel
special and the other is just
along for kicks. We’ve
neverthless mastered,
to withering degrees,
the art of navigation.
I hope you’re prepared
to not walk for a week
after the things I’m going
to do to you, and the pink
sun drifting aimlessly into hope.

-r. miller


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