VELVET TANGERINE ~ Poem By Strider Marcus Jones
i was drinking tea with Dali
in an underworld cafe,
arguing down his table
on General Franco's hand-
when The Persistence Of Memory
that melts my pocket watch
made time less rigid-
so i fell with names and numbers
into old obsidian dreams-
where your long legs pointed
from six to twelve,
then nine to three
when you bent them-
for me to play and pleasure
each exotic segment
of your velvet tangerine.
Dali left the table
to meet Picasso in Paris,
while my benzedrine mind replaced-
the soft and spent infinity of your face.
Copyright Strider Marcus Jones from INSIDE OUT 2009. All Rights Reserved.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference. –Robert Frost
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