the key to my heart
is in tears
overfloating
my breast
the salty tears
do not let
the key
to my heart
rust
what did I want in return from last night
a smile on his face as he left
the peaceful smile I believed he needed
I cooked pork
and he was Muslim
I added oil to tomatoes
and forgot vinegar
we sat on the red coaches
and finshed the last bottle
of white wine from Lorel Lakes
I wanted to have peace and
give peace I thought
he needed
I did not need anything else
just a peaceful smile on his face
as he left.
He went to Santa Monica today
and on his way he called me
for the first time he called me.
I am looking at the picture from
his palm free phone of the palm treed
the sun is so bright it looks like at night
(you understand, right)
for the first time he called
for the first time he called
in six years.
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