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Walking Down the Road
So I was walking with this girl down the road
and it was so hot outside
that the water just evaporated on her skin
sizzling as if it was sprinkled on the hot tarmac of the sidewalk
scorching, burning, carbonizing and petrifying
the other guys who were staring at you
across the road or from the car windows.
If I were to steal one of your hair
and then place it under the microscope
enlarging it tens of thousands of times
I would still see your hellishly lustful appearance.
You're made from millions and millions of microorganisms
That look exactly like you; it's just as if the Wall of China has the same brick for its battered and eroded foundation.
The only difference is that the Wall
is not so attractive
and it's not such a good conversational partner when it comes
to contemplating beauty
Or to decide between Eros
(And Psyche, but I would like her out of the discussion).
Your dead cells, or should I say,
the flaming sparks that you leave behind
are like hot beads of pollen,
carried by the wind through your expensive perfume,
infiltrating themselves in the hair of the other young ladies
who looked at you with discontent
while waiting at the traffic light,
and I'm pretty confident they started flourishing, blushing, blooming.
If only they would look like you,