Embarrassing

Embarrassing

(Now)

How can I write any more if
my eye dizzies each time
I come close to pressing the tip
of my finger
against the vermilion of
your nipple

Let's drive to the south
forget all about
daily human nitty-gritty – you say
and lick semi-hard ice cream, all
day long

I used to do it with
the ink of my pen, rubbing the full
length of the naked
paper, until
there was a flow of ideas
propelling
the rest
, then.

Can't do it! Won't work! I need
the sterile fruition of my pentium-made
reality, humming through flesh
and blood, now! – I say.

(Later)

The amount of rubbish left
behind, after each Sunday market
is blown ungraciously into
trees, fields, the sea. No one
cares...
That is annoying and makes me
sad.

Through the opened window
the sound of the neighbor's TV
unleashes a midday breeze of
cruel destiny
                                  snoozed.

How's the writing? – you ask. I
reach for your nipple.

© 2015, José Eduardo Coelho