Of Pears and Men
The
cold
crisp
-ness
of you,
the pores
dotting your skin,
like mine. Unravel under the blade
and cry happy tears, shed your golden,
textured coat scrubbed free of morning dirt
in the aluminum bathtub of our sink. Naked
and slipping in my hands, as free as a marble
on plywood floors, or milk pudding. Twirl about in
the sun as I pick you up by the rind, the Christmas
orb you are. Sparkle a little with the sweat sliding
over your chiseled body. Tell me exactly how cool
you taste, the hues of September, of burnt toast
and Manhattan smoke and scarves of pedestrians
whipping against the northern wind, Flushing women
with fruits clenched in their buckling hands. In this
moment I hold you, an orb of silence, and we are
both granted a moment of peace within the crowds,
Bridges to Brooklyn thawing under the weight of
people and noise. Your cells will give in as I kiss you,
and you will bleed tart sweetness. Rip open with
the sounds of a city. You are an urban
pear, different than the others.
Let me hear
people tripping all over curbs and wrestling with metro doors, whisper to me the glittering, hedonistic misery of the city, make me miss the present, melt in my mouth and turn me into you.
cold
crisp
-ness
of you,
the pores
dotting your skin,
like mine. Unravel under the blade
and cry happy tears, shed your golden,
textured coat scrubbed free of morning dirt
in the aluminum bathtub of our sink. Naked
and slipping in my hands, as free as a marble
on plywood floors, or milk pudding. Twirl about in
the sun as I pick you up by the rind, the Christmas
orb you are. Sparkle a little with the sweat sliding
over your chiseled body. Tell me exactly how cool
you taste, the hues of September, of burnt toast
and Manhattan smoke and scarves of pedestrians
whipping against the northern wind, Flushing women
with fruits clenched in their buckling hands. In this
moment I hold you, an orb of silence, and we are
both granted a moment of peace within the crowds,
Bridges to Brooklyn thawing under the weight of
people and noise. Your cells will give in as I kiss you,
and you will bleed tart sweetness. Rip open with
the sounds of a city. You are an urban
pear, different than the others.
Let me hear
people tripping all over curbs and wrestling with metro doors, whisper to me the glittering, hedonistic misery of the city, make me miss the present, melt in my mouth and turn me into you.