Under the stars in Calpe
She bumped into her turn to the future
May 10, 2003
The Iranian
She was walking down the hill when the sky was turning blue after
the rain. A little sleeveless white sweater, blond hair, dark glasses
she had a yellow butterfly tatooed on her arm not rushing to conclusions,
she was Irish.
Lolee crossed the street just as night fell to the News Cafe.
J:C: Lod was having bits and bobs of his prick exhibited on the
wall. Floating canvases in unexpected places taking refuge in undue
shitloads of dreams.
Unable to believe his eyes enabled him to mix colors which felt
uncomfortable when he did not have the initiative at the critical
moment to sleep on the counter. Limping as a Spanish pirate lunging
at green parrots with courage, cough and Rioja Cardinal Mendoza.
Do not go gentle.
The artist roamed around his paintings correcting while caressing
his no one will ever know laid behind a dark cloak. The puddles
were getting big leaving behind hard-core curiosities from Amsterdam
to roost in the Canary Islands. A.
Goldfish now shitting in self destruction in a fish bowl after
Lao-Tzu taught him how to ride a bicycle while lighting up golden
Dutch tobacco.
Just because - tinsel scattered on the crumpled sheets with curios
dots lolee went back to her blue eyes because of sheer awfullness
of yellow eyeglasses to those who scattered strawberry leaves on
her pillow wiping away her tears, sniffing her arm pits.
And it worked. She bumped into her turn to the future, showing
her little belly button ring with goldfish Chinese carp hanging
on her naval always on the lookout for consequences winding around
the last orange orchards beneath the steps of the ladder pinching
the last orange blossom from the branches naked on the grass on
the last day of May spring turned to summer in a moment under the
stars in Calpe.
CALPE - &%$·"!? - ESPANA
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