Pale Blue

[podcast]http://www.washthebowl.com/wp-content/uploads//2009/02/paleblue.mp3[/podcast]

Carole King wafting across the quad

sun shinning on our bodies, reaching up

I touch sky blue cotton dress with

spaghetti straps, compelling anorexic

dancers creating permanent jealousy

binge infused with cheerleaders,

wondering could they possibly, like you.

Grass between toes, classes for the toads

reefer madness swirling puffing circle

hula hoops around your waist, waste

around my brain, wine draining into dirt,

Candies stained burgundy fly through the

air, I lick grapes alcohol jam drying upon

bare ankles calves looking at you, looking

up your pale blue cotton spaghetti strapped

dress, wondering If you belong to me…

Tull crests a wave, your lungs suck my air

I don’t care, your on top for all to see, blond

hair obscuring my face, tongues exchanging

spit hips craving hips. Students teachers rush

away, friends form circle mandala shielding us.

Permission to explode quad style public display,

hundreds gather keeping authorities away, you

And I melt into bliss, getting away for just this day.

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