painted like a kiss

the woman's smaller face
and huge breasts
painted like a kiss
on my bedroom wall
so i kept looking
and guessing
and looking again
it was only
a few months earlier
and i was doing a lot of work
a whirlwind of legs
a whirlwind of writing
confetti on the floor
cigarettes like wild mushrooms
on the backyard deck
wine bottles
and corks
and a cheap silk bowtie
underneath a turquoise umbrella
wearing an outrageously starched shirt
they turned out to have more in common
than might have been thought
i blamed myself
for the visceral images
in my mind
drawn from an adolescent prankster
who had given way to a more dramatic
allegorical still life of a man
his tiny arm clutching a pen
like a thunderbolt
like a beach towel
with the figure of Jupiter on top of it
and a clock wound down to the gum line.
have you seen the latest movie
about an alien world
with a hidden agenda,
stripped of any significance
an economic system slowly disintegrating
like a useless utensil?
lastly, her lips were bright red
glossy with temptation
two pieces of a puzzle
hiding from prying eyes
but open for my own.
it would soon be summer and the
celestial weapon of the sun
might burn my skin
but i could use her bust to hide my face
like a carpenter's square can hide
an angle,
and we'll become oranges
sucking all the juice we can
from life,
like architects
who imagine the fantastic.