The Picnic (Interlude)

aka ‘Bean Paste’

From ‘Y × Y’; full e-book available here.

The logic is moving,
This day, every chardonnay glass,
Conversations of times apart?
Face, body, legs: a language in shapes,
Tea from China exalts taste,
And icing sugar on fine China plates,
“Oh, you’re X! Xy’s friend!!”
Circling squares, why did you invite me again?

A message or two for confirmation,
Worlds of silence for curiosity piqued,
What works for you?
No, what really works for you?
Say the right words in business suits,
My day outfit they approve,
From concrete ruse to Moulin Rouge,
Foxes amongst grass or stone facades,
But the request reads quite simply “Coffee?”
Therefore the routine is coughing,
Bean paste and soy milk is foreign to you,
Funny, because I took you home.

Your name for the segue, <insert here>
Forgetful! Your name for neutral reinforcement,
<insert here>
A prophecy therefore fulfilled? Doubtful,
Real is clout but truth is doubtful, so let’s talk,
Yours or mine, mine or yours?
Your nose and eyes, minor flaws,
My ‘know’s’ and ‘I’s’? Minor talk,
Awkward pauses passed back and forth,
Break the unceremonious cycle!
Blooming spills upon winters’ chill.

The black and grey sorority,
Every still shard of glass, dear domestics,
Conversations of forever you ask?
Over white wine and macarons.
But you love the club! Tea and cake,
Forever to me is more coffee and donuts,
Less pillow talk, more pillow to the face,
Plus one in the chest is below the waist.
Maybe my passion is indecision,
Maybe your all is in this decision,
But can’t we watch the tofu wobble together,
And share clean laundry at world’s end?

The logic is moving,
Makes sense against stubborn will,
For all that is still, feelings stressed,
Or stretched perhaps for wanton will,
Yet people search for needless depth,
Happily Ever After’s best!
“Take this pill, I know you best.”
Every world in a dimension,
Other worlds in our own,
Tiny pearls in golden whip,
Look around to take the custard in,
What more could you want but to swim?
Sometimes I want nothing moments,
And somewhere, always, bars of gold,
And sins of the flesh at my whim,
Partisan about standards, it’s just this ‘thing’ I get.
New feelings are old pretensions,
Fall of Human, collapse of dimensions,
My nights-in miss you.

☀ ☁ ☂

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