sprouting

you called me my king
you were my gypsy princess
sneaking our love
behind the school’s kitchen
twenty seconds of a loving hug
holding hands
eye to eye
an hour long kiss in the club
inches away from the loud speakers
smoky and crowded
not for us
once the obstacles were removed
we felt naked
not for each other
fear of a good life
lack of abuse
missing the punching fist
grounding for sprouting
grains are better cooked
especially in a new york winter
© 2001. All Rights Reserved.
Zemach Zohar Wilson, New York, March 2001

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