Expressions

In the last July the trees across the parapet of our balcony

Acted as canopies for hundreds of wet shivering birds

With hot springrolls we plonked into deep easy chairs

To watch waves after waves of silver rain

The night deepened and the fogs croaked in gusty unison

From shallow puddles on the edge of the street

She looked at me as though I was a slimy toad, in some way,

Connected to the throaty frogs from streetside puddles

The towel on her bunned hair came off suddenly

Releasing her silky hair into the pool of darkness

Between me and her was this inky curtain of darkness

Her lipsticked ruby lips twisted and curled in anger

Another time, another day, this slimy frog had entered her life

She snarled at me and looked through her spit-fire eyes

Where were the little flakes of snowy promises

That had glistened in the amber afternoon sun in my tousled hair

Then I was walking about in the woods with a halo of knowingness

These little flakes melted in thin streamlets of airy nothingness

Forming moist pearldrops on the frogback of my carnality

At the dead of the night the frogs stopped croaking readying to sleep

I dared not look at her luminescent forehead where lay my innermost secrets.