Neither young nor old,
as Hispanic melodies reverberate
from a temporary sunday's
Colombie in the park,
A man and woman
South heading a little way. arms
Full of boxes (two each)
filled with
thick glass Clicks,
in lock step with
their side-by-side gait.
(Black pansies and rose begonias
rustle near my toes,
using their surrounding breath fronds
to intermittantly tickle.)
The couple, southmore bynow quiteoutofvision,
slowly like—succoring our high humidex noon—
presuming they'll reach the
the dépanneur's bottle
redemption.
(sipping a bottle of cold.
licking Evaporation from my upper
lip.
half hour passed, in between the
flaps of Paper extending from a spine-in-hand
and words and
Foreign lives in my Livre.
there exists this extension of substance
but the lives in the extension,
while not extended
touch me in their philosophy.)
Hearing footsteps I look
from a flap page, to the
sidewalk, the man and woman returning—northerly now.
Sharing one green glass mineral Gazeuse
and a blue glace and
a pink glace artificicle
each, which
they suck from plastic.
Their short walk, having
Exchanged remnants Of
a Young middlelderly's age's right of passage,
Folly, obtuse and slippery liquid Judgement,
For simple sugar colours
combustion engine of early youth. Shining, melting
popsicles, which wink in
the 33°C embrace.
cafes fall in love meeting the rapids buried
in statues of their river
A neighbor's blue and white flag almost flutters
nearly dancing over the man and woman
as they
disappear, (doubtless from the extension of I).
