You Look Just Like A Girl Again

similar to the lost girl Magdalena of the Danny O'Keefe years
i sit opposed to myself- with a shattered glass of coffee in my right hand
and a frantic typing left, mimicking the phrases echoing from my mind:

songs without syllables- perhaps geometric in design, like numbered days,
hard to capture with only a heart as the net,
words of a butterfly who claims the sky as home- ever elusive.
I understand your youthful wisdoms
and I will invigorate them into Being,
for your soul is within me
The spark radiated and now holds life of its own
the warmth shines through like a penny polished in Mercury
when we exchanged hush-hush kisses in the dark,
each polite, silent, red
warm pulse was a vintage
shadow currency of which I have much of,
hidden in the ripped seams in my bed, an off-shore account.