A makeshift resort
dimmed with green, red and blue
sailing misty cigarettes dust on board—
the aged curtains cut in falling rains
and scented bottles of chatty Goldbergs
sell themselves out on teasefull roam.
It was the name skinny tall for years,
not a letter or any tinge of change,
however, it gathers her untimely and ripened
clusters to urinate their sorrows to the
very least aching coat like a toddler
learning to pee.

© Favour Ike