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Paper Tigers
Shift the soap and shift our libido too to endure as mature raw anatomical
in a nickel basin soften the soap so that it turns druid
wash me with memories those old times returning    
we tumble into the moss and catch our lips on tiers of dried lock
when we talked we talked with a scallop
slices of pemmican lip and the smell of Swedish yang sultry man diaphoresis 
we scratched our blossoming chins and scorned with fossils of crack 
sitting with you your dark berry flesh and we watched the crack warm in a peanut butter jar
the transudation was happening and all our arcane thoughts got pushed over to the future