I am fond of long goodbyes
as though they were a long banquet
not equivalent to the portrayal of the last meal because there was no betrayal for coins —-
no deceptive kiss on the cheek
I love the drippingness of sweet words
Hopes that could leap out and embrace
A resolution to a conversation that may have gone wrong; ebbed and flow bile in stead of black humours. The miasma of it churning out may be placated by the salts and coals and waters of a peaceable parting. A promising of next time affairs being gently etched and understandingly bitter but less acerbic in the end.
The sly judas is anti-intimacy
not everyone favours the long kiss
brevity is wit right or so they think
a peck on the cheek is fine; two makes the sweet couplet. But a pentameter is not necessarily short…. a sonnet requires the taste of stanzas. While I wait to encholate on the compositions of tongues and fingertips I get a spurt of half-line codes. Deception becomes the perception. A perfunctory peck becomes as tragic as silver coins. Time is money. People have other things to do.
While I who wanted a banquet
Satiate with a diet of shorter, odder meals — I must patiently wait to meet my parallel, my paradox, eating to wait whilst everyone on queue perhaps ponders on the delicacies of mastication.—-