A matutine illumination looms                                                                                                 uncharted in a pocket of your smile

Hovering audaciously around your lips’
emphatic lockdown on exuberance
with my limp paper crowbar
of practicing charisma
I stutter out a campaign against
an appetite of happiness sequestered
by the existential bread and water
of contentment

Your gum line must be
a palette of congealed contexts
as the passages of my pedestrian
existence spill from me like water
from a greasy bucket

Sentiments and intimations slap
the Easter Island stoicism of your residence
in General Emotional Delivery
like a jaded gypsy ostracized
and dispatched to domestication’s
evil empire

I just happen to be hunting for
an empress to oscillate a measure of
significance and chip away the stale air
I breathe like a lonely archaeologist

The treasury of your idyllic mouth
must hide a holy grail of a grin

Riches shine the brightest when held
to the purpose of a compliment’s guiding light

(c) Steven Fortune 2015


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