The smell of freedom
came with peach;
orange-like soap suds
under a low-ceiling
of showering promises.
A small iron-framed window
in the tile wall
into the dark unknown
its handle too wet
for fresh minds to grip.
Faces awashed with the assumed known
flicking mental floaters of
easy experimentation
into endlessness...
It all came to blossom
many seas later;
here.
The specimens of by-products
of time's tests
lined up at my
roach-filled
residence.
Some blowing dreams of
fall-like aspirations
into the remaining sunlight,
gripping moments like
dripping chocolate on ice.
And most blew bad mouth breath
into contaminated fish bowls
and observed the fish sink....
