he has so many points, the points are congregating, stacking on top of each other, and building towers.
the points are kissing and making clever, infinite equations.
the points are connecting with purpose, reinventing an infrastructure for the gods.
he is making art.
i am making art.
we are making love
in the morning.
i choose the guy with the mustache and the sensitive dark eyes, the guy with the passwords to nirvana, encyclopedic memory, the graceful improvisor, flirty dyslexic. i give the crown to the really tall guy sipping the coconut.
baby, you look brilliantly cute when you drink from a coconut.
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