Acapulco
My love is
not by genes alone.
Where am I? I am wondering.
I am a girl,
a northern musician.
Doors start asking questions.
You are a python forced to move
in such a shrunk envelop.
While sleeping, how do you drive your dreams?
Say, you want to run,
you wounded your finger
for the sake of recalling
but forgot what was that for.
I am cooking for his friends.
Why in Acapulco?
Sea ducks.
Ojos de alcornoque.
Eyes made of cork oak.
You there. A wave will withhold you.
“Kanchenjunga to start its jorney at Acapulco”.
Take your turn. Don’t walk the line.
Lost Bombay
and found Revolcadero.
He is sleeping with the wives of four or five gangsters.
There is an illusion.
No gangster has been beaten by a bunch of flowers.
She said: my love is compromised by an earlier comment.
Dream two nights a day. Disclosure.
SewaLungma
Comment by Mau — August 1, 2007 @ 3:11 am