okay poems.

spent/scattered

spent first summer days 
                  topless in Sun's
        brusque heat.

Ripping orchestra
                    of auto
              and motorcycle

and unrelenting transaction
     of gulls and their
       oceanic lifestyle

blatantly
             performing past thunder from
      their natal.

The turn
          of
             your hand 

     over my hip; in which
           I recall identical
    traversed paths is your

exercise
          in your already adept skill set-
My hands with your body on a hill

and a short trance
                     to spare us
                         for a scattered day.