OJAS

Coppertone’s mixed with black and pearl
vary from straight to curl, as Fall leaves the ground.


Air rei(g)ns a flow through my winter veins,
you remain someplace misplaced.


Black cougars attack me in dreams, surrounded by dreams,
like the White chocolate tucked underneath the Dark, socializing together
to create the Milk. Ladies and gentlemen, stop your complains;
we sell fresh-born fruit so highly, chemically tamed.


You are not the first to say, “There is something about you
that draws me to you, I cannot explain.” I could, with magnetism,
but who is a magician without their audience? I am not the one to blame.


What, you thought it might be? Thought me might be? Your hinge
my locksmith is in the wrong place. I stroke your agni when and when
you are not looking and you still have no suspicion (look it up, look me down, you’ll never find what you are looking for). Restore the ama.