CELLINI
I try to imagine you
and I in the bathtub.
Your back is against
the front. My back
is against the back.
Suddenly, I remove
a broadsword and point
it at your golden eyeballs.
Why golden?
Because somehow, when
you weren’t looking, some
joker, probably from ancient
Rome, painted us gold–
from head to toe. testa al piede.
Think Cellini. Or
Goldfinger.
You almost cover your breast.
I practically hold a fig leaf.
That’s how much in love we
are. From bow to stern.
I can hear the ocean. It is an ocean
of love. Quite unusually, here in
the bathtub, it is quivering like a
baby.
all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006
and I in the bathtub.
Your back is against
the front. My back
is against the back.
Suddenly, I remove
a broadsword and point
it at your golden eyeballs.
Why golden?
Because somehow, when
you weren’t looking, some
joker, probably from ancient
Rome, painted us gold–
from head to toe. testa al piede.
Think Cellini. Or
Goldfinger.
You almost cover your breast.
I practically hold a fig leaf.
That’s how much in love we
are. From bow to stern.
I can hear the ocean. It is an ocean
of love. Quite unusually, here in
the bathtub, it is quivering like a
baby.
all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006
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