On an afternoon walk I saw fireflies
Garlic vine flower buds a second before they bloom remind me of your untouched lips.
A red car parked over fresh green grass is a lady resting.
A slow afternoon, trike drivers patiently waiting, as if it was an hour before the bombs were dropped in 1945.
I saw him once more the tall deaf boy on his bike, envying him for the silence he holds forever.
In the midst of a crowd with fancy dresses I walked when you blew me a kiss wrapped in smoke.
This lovely green car reminds me of a snake out in the open after months in the undergrowth.
You have what they covet but in their desire to see it they can’t help but to laugh at you.
The trees told me to stop looking at their shadows because to look at their shadows is to look at them.
When fireflies hover around a lammpost are they blinded that they can’t see how beautiful they are?
do their tiny mouths blaze in joy?
do they also dream they can shine as bright as it?