most days i wake up to the sun spilling through the creamy white blinds of my two story window now that i really consider it i am always awakened in this tender routine two thin flaps of skin clothe my eyes i want to continue swimming in warm sicilian pools of candor is it so wrong the idea of daylight begins and carries me along with it hurriedly ruthlessly where are we going my eyes open wide like a camera’s shutter instantaneously i drink you in the yummiest tropical smoothie is that a new shirt? smooth, blue, linen where your clothing lacks in creases your olive skin compensates proportionally paper is beautiful with a few wrinkles and perfectly legible without i find it impossible to read you my mystery novel it’s a thriller sans the violence or the anxiety it’s my own little slice of heaven here at apartment thirty-nine
