by Glor23 Nov 2016
My heart is black garlic
is honeydew melon
is an olive oil drenched tostada
is the spray from the fountains in the Alameda.
My heart is a sprig of rosemary
is a Velazquez exhibition
with an unconquerable queue,
is a bike lane going both ways.
My heart is a tomato crushed on rye
is a glass blue sky
is more black balsamic garlic
for the road.
My heart is the dregs of a strong coffee,
is the ice cold condensation on a plastic bottle.
My heart consumes itself with references.
My heart contrives
is one too many orange wines
is divine without direction.