A rebel without a clue.

Do we wear clothes, as apparently, We'd grow so bored of our natural Appearance? Sometimes there are people who Match Their apparel to be one because Out And in season do blow hot and Cold Shivering or sweating apart, creaselessly, Ceaseless.

If I ever buy you flowers Then Our love must be Dead Wilted and dusty. Poorly and Deflowered. No longer eager or touching Fingers Tenderly reaching beyond ways Means Hourly, daily, weekly seeming Barred Where nothing may be Ever.

Goodbye sweetness I say She stares downcast at bright White Sneakers shining into her Black Face quizzical and catching Words Which like a boomerang came Back.