the number behind an orange vest, your name???

the moon is full, but clouded from my face by low hanging blankets of mist,

easily disguising the reasons for my tears.

quickly i am swept in the tides of my emotions, moving from laughter and sly smiles to

cliff jumping tears and energetic earthquakes.

i am naked despite my gold silk, bought cheap and worn well

with my old fashioned knee high socks; so, so reminiscent of early erotica.

my skin glows white in front of this box, an artificial moon, allowing me to shift.

i lay awake and think of a long, interesting hand on my cheek, agreeing with a "see-er,"

number 47 or 49 about my beauty.

momentarily i am stunned by love and affection. i smile, unable to articulate.

touched, my heart moves tears to quickly fill my eyes. they work together as a clever team.

he said " i love you guys."

we could probably count the times this has passed though a mouth so lovely, bringing a spirit of dance and deep earth chants and knocking down my gates.

in a position so sterile and utterly bureaucratic, reminding me of a Russia i have never seen.

where lines of cars wait and push forward.