Dos

I

Looking for a quiet moment
to write
The second of peace
The place of arrival
where sounds and smells and images
take me to the butterscotch place of poetry
of dark seated images
of desperate bone bashing dreams
of black solid figures hovering at the edge of my bed
juxtaposed against
anyone’s small and fragile smile
cherry blossoms in full bloom
and mint ice cream
or cookie dough
not melted–

II

The water rushes down the faucet
You are diligently washing dishes
and in my search for me
and in my search for you
We have finally found a home–

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