A gardener and the bland ambience.
I met him at this hallucination,
and to cultivate this bond.
Abrasive hands for the fine ground,
bodies scratches simultaneously.
There’s electric gist—
to our shoulders moving on
both ditty and rhythms.
Although, salt was not present
and have misshapen,
but it was everywhere.
To elusive days, guided with desire—
for a reason that you exist.
Such granular choice to meet this heat.
The gardener—
I saw you with your dirty white undershirt,
mouthful fibs to imbibe being.
And besides, were strangers.
Featured photo by Furkan Değerli on Unsplash.
If you’re an international queer creative who would like to be included in the bad apple World Tour, please visit the submissions page to find out how you can send through your work for consideration.
