Sunday, July 13, 2008

Matriculant

From the high school
of love
you matriculated;
from the university
of love
you graduated;
then you turned your skills
on me:
of all the misses
I've kissed,
it's your kisses
I most miss,
their moist memories
lingering on my lips

like the urgent taste of salt
on a hot
plate of chips.

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HAROLD BUDD: go in peace

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