* Return of lyricism ... haem *
I knew a sailor on the streets of Noyes. He had moored at the foot of my desk, the anchor stuck to the ground, staring into the skyline. His tongue was held in travel by the thousands, he untied my top and affixed a taste of freedom. Her skin was carrying salt from the seas, his hands contained only crevices, canyons, the wind blew her mouth very large ocean and spent my nights sleeping in the sand after its fed my hair dreams.
I knew this Marine of Noyes Street and took his boat coming over the bar. Her lips were still traces of spice, still stuck with honey and orange flower water and filled my belly with exotic species as a fuel.
I met this sailor in the street Noyes. We left the street to take his sailboat. And on top of the mast I have no seasick I discovered the world and outdoor life. I'm not afraid of anything and I contemplate the distant lands devastated, fields of loneliness that I abandoned for those long ropes and words that frivolent with the waves.
My story is not falling as I trip even
sea to sea from city to city
from port to port.
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