It Could Be Would

she was a salamander of the sun an enraptured reptile of the stars dancing with the other campfire lizards in the asphalt murrain in the technomarshes in the hookah parking lots and mildewed shopping malls on the internet amongst the programmer punks and hacker geeks the tweeting tools the facebook fools sashaying through cyberspace and in all the common places where human hearts are liquid nitrogen her belly is sparidged and maplemarvelous the taut black knit tubetop stretched acrylic over tantalum breasts the cerise cutoffs born broadbelted and blithely clenching her pomegranate cheeks piebald with sweet sweat appaloosan with her own sweet waters because a culture summer is coming in in Coddles Harbour and Port Hilford in Manchester and Fox Island a magnetic renaissance coming in ike a lion like a lizard loaded indigo and heat desperate and as he stood and watched "all states, all princes I." and as she moved and sang he spoke "Love. There is no 'love'." "It is true. It is true." I cannot clutch the tongue of bones commonwealth any more nor catch any human kingdom here any tenderness no longer moats between us it is occupied shocked by the ordinary the commonplace by the electrical but still I am mad ensieged with her