Tuesday, April 7, 2009


This lizard's tongue --
my mind, never still --
darts here and there,
always looking for some fresh new bug
while I
behind the dark and watchful eye,
would so prefer to be a chameleon;
to have the luxury
of a slow fade into my surroundings:
you'd never know
where the sidewalk ended and I began
and then there'd be that one misstep,
the crunch and slide --

then we'd be One,

* * *

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