|
Indian Red
Backdoor whispers pierce me
like the homeless at a free luncheon,
overpowering but with a gentle hand.
Lava flows from your mouth that speaks native melody,
why don't you cool your tongue red woman?
Universal dreams can only bring you so far
while our sun is the only map you need.
Rescue us.
Breathe.
Dive into harmony.
ã June 2000, J B Conway
|
|
