the color bananas and cream
and the Hesperides perfume
my hair blonder in your hands
enter with a paperbag as if of tumbling oranges
hips and wings in stereophonic sound, warning—soft and hygienic, pure eyelid
attach to an existing person, a real man
brass buttons on his briefcase, the coal scent of leather
or that nervous scent of a cotton candy’s vat in the air, someone to meet at the carnival—
the whole costume was lipstick, believe me I bled nowhere
anyone could see not even me
but it’s more a feeling, look!
—I am here, a real prayer
clean of existing, loose of that god’s eye
if he saw me tonight I’d be a basket of fresh white pleated hellos!