[ greyweed ] -- and the bored shall inherit the earth...

Condensation
Ramil Digal Gulle

it’s no longer clear but I can
remember some poem
some poem and who-
ever it was, saw
saw me writing, wet and naked,
wet and naked in bed

asked why rock and roll
around there sloshing,
sloshing like some insane
person without clothes,
writing some poem on
soggy paper with blue
ink streaks on your sun-
burned skin?

and it’s no longer clear but
some notion rose up
rose up like a wave, like
the way laughter rushes
through your chest and throat,
like a sudden tall, twanging
hard-on,

some notion moved my
mouth so I said,
i’m a raindrop, a giant,
luscious raindrop
and let’s make love
and find out what’s it
like to fuck a great big
raindrop

and some poem stuck its bulbous
head up and out and erect,
blinked its one
eye like a mini-cyclops
staring at a micro-miniskirt
on the floor
and afterwards I burst
like I splattered myself
into a thousand eyes,
blinking surprise
on the floor or something
and some poem it’s no
longer clear it’s
no longer clear how
or who it was I made love
like a horny rain-
drop to

maybe it was some
one, maybe it was clear but
now it isn’t; maybe it was
some poem that made love
alive, made love alive to some
one; maybe it was even you.