Second Nightfall

Cathartic boulevards manifest as green belle mountain
men in shuels of soft, suppliant leaves an ephervescent green
leaves me seeping, sappy verdania. Tilia americana, your evening
fullness lures me into love as you lawy about your wide-spread leaves,
city pastures presevered in academic maniucre, bastions of wealth and
pleasant comfort amngst the rough, tawdry edges of city pavement
and chainlink fencing. We take respite here, where large burly oaks
and rheumentoid crab apples go out to pasture.
As resplendant clay, the trees silt-molded with our newly whetted hands,
we come eye-to-eye with our just-kissed histories, a rendez-vous with the devil.
My tearing eyeballs, new to the winds, playtoys of medalion, verdancy, play at the
fantasy of second nightfall that the trees confjure beneath their storied leaves.

Against the fence, the blue gaze of new evening watches as a tall
you man is splayed out by a lustful little girl,
as a star-fish plucked form her ocean.
She rushes at him full-force, her mouth meeting his open one,
she knocks sunglasses from his face
and down toward his nose,
his human back pressed against the fence,
his leather-jacketed body completely at a loss:
momentum rides body, then mind in only so many ways!

Above them, the space station hurtles in continuous circumnavigation around the Earth,
the bright lights at a speed of motion which is visible to the human eye, just for a moment
before it turns around the arced plane of the Earth.

Below me, the damp grass begins an ignominious enticement to exploration.