The lilacs drift into my nose and force-feed me memories of
Ballet on warm Venice evenings
-The quarters clinking into the jar- The repitition of bones
and memory
Jasmine shifting the mind towards my open heart of a child
Which one was it, lilac or jasmine?
They bring it all up, the breezes full of goddess sandals
and movements in the sand that resemble snakes on top of the river bed,
slinking into the memories of forgotton tails.
The swing swept me high into your maple arms, laughing mountainously
back and forth went your memory
Your hands held me only for a moment and then spun me back into a
flying frenzy, opposite your warm gentle embrace
The Sunday lovin’ sings out into the Hawaiian nights, spilling onto the front porch
and the darkness lightens the stars from across galaxies
as I gaze into your ghostly eyes.
And then the lilacs came back as the weeping willow swept a pantomimic hello
