orgami's Diaryland Diary

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Thistle scratch

she pulls her shirt
up over her head
the dark brunette
swirls flashing
the streetlamp far
down the lawn
across the fence
throws the light
like a watercolour
illusion

she is bent forward
her hair cascading
down one side of her
face Just her jawline
her lower soft lip
her nose showing against
the froth of darkness

a truck drones on the highway
its tires singing in the cool
August night an owl calls
urgent behind the home
down where the creek threads its
away through the old growth
I can take you where the water
speaks soothing and timeless
the moss and grasses thick and
lush soft like this light

how it strokes against the
curves of her
rising from her hipbone
to meet her ribs her arms
slender and pale
the steady and strong fingers
on her small hands

shes just sitting
quietly
against me
our breathing out of sync

and I know when she speaks
it will be about the dreams

its always about the dreams
and the dogs that chase
her through the village
the burning cars
sending black greasy towers
of blight

I am in love with a dreamer
and I am lost
and the stars are unknown
constellations of thoughts

and I wait for her voice
the voice that runs inside
me and echoes through my
soul

9:50 p.m. - 2010-12-31

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