A Sexy Florida Morning

Lying in bed squeezing lids tightly closed, light seeps in under the leaky door
Filling more than the floor it splashes and thrashes washing away the dark sand of night
Spraying like a sprinkler through slices of shades, writing word rows of red marching ants.  Fresh squeezed sweet orange juice dripping, whispering memories of the evening’s passion
Covering the naked curves of sexy tanned night with strips of bright new clothes
Pulling open the shades like and old etch and sketch
Erases the wall and the Dream it did call
Warm days beyond the wall
beckon with no pall

window-sexywoman

 

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we opted against san loco (on 160 n 4th street) to get something more authentic at the taco truck on the side of n6th. – 28 (williamsburg, borough of lost boys)

Janr’s intro:   Frankie Leone’s words, like Rit dye, drip down in rainbows of darkness to tie dye your soul.  Like Dali’s paintings, their  surrealistic twists and turns add depth to your dream of reality.  Each charcoal shaded stroke takes you deeper into his soul, your soul and the pain and passion you thought you erased when you showered.  Read it on “Borough Of Lost Boys.”

Franke.Leone.

we opted against san loco (on 160 n 4th street) to get something more authentic at the taco truck on the side of n6th. – 28 (williamsburg, borough of lost boys).