My [mind/body/heart] isn't tired of sex, only of dichotomy.
Come, it calls. Two by two by two to welcome.
In my future, could there be a pair of in-
line skates? will I make a beeline
for a hammock between two camphor
trees? Some red comes from lipstick trees
flaming like a portent. Will the world end in flames,
ice; or the disappearance of prejudice
at last, just as we dissolve into melanoblasts?

