The way it is,is the way of the nipple.
The upside down version,
is what enters my sightline.
I have stood clueless
on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico,
on plenty of rainy days,
and several somber days.
When you silently wept,
I childishly hid from your sadness, then
you locked the oak door,
and buried the special key on a sandless beach.
Even when I change my scene
your laugh escapes into the atmosphere.
Laughing?
We used to do all the time and
now it's a faded memory, like
last month's soup du jour.
When you curled your toes
against my leg,
spinal shivers paralyzed me
for 17 seconds.
I sink down,
spinning,
chasing the glorious feeling
that flooded my sedated bloodstream
during my raging days in overcast Barcelona when
crimson dreams,
sweltering inspiration,
trumpets of desperation, and
electric splashes...
remind of our long drives
down the slippery California coast,
where Keira's nipple can easily
be licked upside down.
The way it is,
is the way of the nipple.
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