by on December 14, 2017 :: 0 comments

I never thought she would pollinate in my glance
as the chair melted on her breasts, legs crossed,
almond eyes frozen in time and saxophone –
a spec of desire listed as
old school aftershock storyline
— Did I miss the groovy tress, expecting
daffodils will fly with new age rhapsody?

Tattoos blended in subcutaneous tissues with Alice
melting pots stirring up truffles, treasure and epiphany
lessons they teach in meritocracy of unfound truth
that shimmers and fades and silently spreads
just wait and wade through till you find the dots
they were a colored intense polemic
you happy now?

– Shaan Bagchi

editors note:

A trick to keep up when story speeds up as words pile up and we line up in saxophone. Nice! – mh clay

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