grapes: st pauls cathedral.

I wonder whats happened
to the grape vine bracelet
I made earlier this night.
Those grapes were the deepest
plum color and tasted tart.
i never knew how beautiful
the vine is, once the grapes have been plucked,
thats why i made a bracelet.
I suppose its been crushed
by now, my bracelet,
under someone's clumsy foot.
It would have browned anyway,
been lost in a purse or pocket,
crumbled.
It was delicate.
She is delicate, im sure.
Much like I am,
much like my bracelet is, or was.
Though, I do not know her well.
No, not yet.
She liked my grape vine bracelet.
i liked that she noticed my hands
feebly binding the vines together.
Small hands, small vines, big blue eyes.
love binds us like grapes on the vine.
black beans are great for baking.
my hair looks good
when the window is rolled down,
and I am looking away.
the rich in wealth seek the rich,
and the poor tend to smell funny.
I like very pale beer.
He forgot the key to his bike
while delivering low fat
baked goods.
He doesn't know what to make of me.
My expensive pants look great on him.
He leaves his shit at my house, in my head.
I choose to think about the weather instead.
She asks me about africans.
I feel sick.
The key works in the door
for the first time in weeks,
my thighs burn from climbing three flights.
She is happy for the first time in a long time.
I remind her that sometimes
sadness is good for growing.
we are trees, watered by our tears.
we grow.
love binds us like grapes on the vine.
Her long hair is on his mind,
He thinks about the weather instead.
She is climbing mountains,
for the first time.
love binds us like grapes on the vine.