would that i may
abandon contrition
and allow
the deep attunement
of our movement
to fade beyond
mere dancing antics
fold into a risque
tango
forge forward
into a forbidden
frontier territory
and plant my flag
of colonization
unfortunately
i am writer
surpassed only
by the elephant
in our capacity
for mulling
over memory
being kneecapped
by an untimely
arrival of nostalgia
powerless
to bind a left hand
from being
wholly aware
of the illicit affairs
on the right
the writer
whose recollection
unfolds as vast
as his vocabulary
paralyzed by
past transgressions
haunted by
each full color
reflection
unfolding in
brilliant bursting
emotionally
tangible
contextual
consequence
i feel it like
it were yesterday
and resist
a futile exercise
in wrestling
with principle
for the taste
of temptation
is often too good
to be true.
Resistance ain’t
so futile after all.
