Saturday, 19 April 2014

18. Eke

Tomorrow will be 3m 55s
longer than today.

Enough time
to gulp four oysters
play a pop song out of tune

yank off
almost all of our clothes.

These days are oozing
overripe camemberts
we stick our fingers in
luxuriate in goo.

Cycling home beneath
the wallow of cherry blossom

we yank fistfuls of moments
to smear upon our chests.

Let’s eke out all of it—
the three minutes
and fifty-five seconds.

Let’s fill ourselves to the brim
and luxuriate
in the glug.

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