Sweet Memory of Buenos Aires by Andrew Cuk

At the curtained window
framed on a tired and yawning sun
gaping happenstance catches me unawares
stops my breathing
soft smoke between your fingers
silvered metaphors of signs
of dreams
from the sleep of momentary futures;

along the grain of cheap lace
catching remnants of gilded veins
turned to white caresses
that meld your body’s edge
into the outside world of street noise
real world pleasures and pains;

there
in my future
drifting up against you
drinking the eddy that swirls around
the outer circumference of your breast
I forfeit myself onto the pulsing white
and melt into bright darkness.

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