on giving your
self
over
to the moment
dropping deep down
into that endless
ocean
splish-splash
no, I wasn’t taking a bath
and it’s Monday evening
a sudden rush of
words and water
rolling off the tips
of several tongues
I speak
to myself
and others
aloud
in the quiet
to the other
that insists, insists
me, moi
moi-même, I
ay, ay
the famous Greek
“outshouting seas”
and again
snatches
bites of words
maybe wisdom
drip-dropping
flip-flopping
hip-hopping
and there it goes
an entire video music awards
that shows
such roll of song
(it’s sad, isn’t it
how that space for music
no longer is a home of song)
anyway.
every way
time, space
written monuments to bad taste
that glue themselves to your memory
slipping out suddenly
in cravings for sticky-sweetness
whispered kisses, ma chèries
another time, really
leave me be
I need to write this
I need to see.
©2016 threegoodwords