She had two cents
He had two sense
Neither came together, but once
And forever they found chasing this elusive pleasure
to be sufficient
for what a spinning world on a rock mysteriously called
a relationship
with all sorts of bracelets adorned upon the rusty iron and steel mills
a pink rose rejoices
each season
underneath a process unlimited, with fervor of flying arrow
to reach destiny, sure that’s fine
but in the middle of flight
the nectar hides
for the rush of fantasy, the beginning
has a grip on each mind
with two cents to spend.
