it was you in the springtime I awoke to

(the slumber of dark months never having been my friend).

it was, in fact, Easter midnight when

on the margin of a shopping mall’s parking lot,

cars few,  but drive-in stars above abundant,

we cheered each other with edible jewels of enchanted strawberries

-ensconced in settings of 24-karat chocolate-

 and then moaningly bit in, licked our chops, and kissed

(or was it the other way around?)

and thus joyously smashed that still-wintering fast called Lent.

for when I then grabbed your ass

and wrapped you in my arms

and told you I never would (ever want to) let go,

it was the sap of springtime itself flowing freely from my lips.

(do click)

Some souls spend time's expanse in more awesome accomodations than most of us will ever get to live in.  Garfield's Monument.

I merely sit alone on the patio, drink beer, watch the Sun course towards its set, and write (but only when the mysterious whispers of intimacy touch my heart).