To the place

Where mornings are grungy

and glamorous.

Our expressions are blurred

and coffee-stained.

Shadows fix our nails square

and obelisk;

We propel towards olive walls

As the grinder whirs self-satisfied.


We are astronauts falling after silly things:

like boys and macadamia nuts

(carnations are too cheap for us)

Soap operas and buttered popcorn,

Silk fashion.

Kimonos are the current craze.


We live in gazebos,

Tending dandelions

as we paint our toenails 'red desire'

(we forgot to plant the roses,

But it isn't the season, anyway.)

We drink bars of creamy whipped light

So it milks our eyes.

Yawning is an expertise.


Please don't laugh,

Because we can pinch.

Again the craze.