Now would you
look at that..
The Sun
came up from
The Duat, at last,
to take a sneaky
peek!
I would be pinching
my own cheeks..
if I was not The Man,
The Writer of this
cheeky dream.

The Devil won.
The temptress
is the tempted now.
Now who’s
the clowned upon..
and who’s
the clown?
This question is
rhetorical, of course,
because I always am
the clown, yes, indeed..
but then again,
there lies a boundary
between temptations
of the flesh..
and the unholy deed.

It seems that curiosity
at last,
has suffocated this
old cat..
who couldn’t breathe
within her
stuffy, raggedy ol’ bag.
Inside the bag,
I still presume the bottle
of champagne
is sparkling completely still.
I wouldn’t drink it,
hand on heart, if I was you..
But I’m still me.

You were the radiant,
I am the blinded.
Without my sight
to worry us..
we left it all
behind us.
But on account
of my preserved
olfactory reserve..
The Rose is now,
the only one I see.
She is my truest love,
in flesh and deed.

The One I ride
into the sunset with
before the credits roll..
The One who came to me
in flash of vision
that I shared with you
so long ago..
The One
whose essence
Morpheus once
sprinkled on my
sleepless eyes
before I ever met her.

My prickly beauty,
yes.. The Truth that
for so long I tried
to find..
How could I ever
forget her?
How could The Devil
fail to
recognize her in a sea
of faces?
She is the secret sauce
of this Italian Hell’s Kitchen
version of gourmet spaghetti.

The One that makes
this avant-garde
confusing soap of
phantom operas
into most timeless
of cult classics.
She is The One
sent to me by The All..
I have good reason
to be this goddamn
enthusiastic.

In any case,
I only tell you
all of this with
devilish intent
to stir some drama
with my loving tease.
As for how I found out
that you were looking?
Let’s just say..

It was revealed
to me by God!
within a dream
inside a dream…