dam up that sweet ice cream river
sell it to the villagers
sculp a temple to the luscious figure of the queen--
a sight, a smell of the dulce each day in pay--
on your knees for the churning of your heart.
your face buried in the sand if you can't stand the beauty.
when the clock strikes doce.
"the back" is back. sweet Mary Moses.
radiance reflects from inner skin.
floats across the water in flowing garb
form and function to make dogs whine.
divine and demure.
the hour draws near
when the crowd anticipates
the arrival of departure.
