Wrapped In Deli
I see Mars-mystery in your mind,
the global warming in your lips
I would like to be wrapped in you
as meats get wrapped in deli.
Your eyes are clear September sky
your rich bosom March madness
you are in vision of my old eyes
you have all the things in you
that any man will desire.
You are the breathe of Old Saturn
To me you are vision of Pluto.
Growing older, you are in my vision
Even though you are far far away.
Rich by passion as the Indian monsoon
Poor with impatience as Canadian Winter.
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