Trandavesc in tandretea insorita

a vinului sicilian

sub capul tau usor aplecat,

cu pletele adiind

de parca m-as lafai intr-un lan

de porumb

cu matasea stiuletilor despletiti

(in)cantandu-mi sprancenele.

Tu imi mangai teasta neteda

in timp ce radio-canada ingana

chansonettes, jazz si big orchestra

iar soarele-stalker

se strecoara printre jaluzele

comentand fara permisiune

in jurnalul meu existential.

Privesc in sus in ochii tai

si ii ca si cum

duc la ureche o cochilie uriasa

si valurile marii ma stropesc

cu miros de alge.

Biloiul meu cel mare

trimite semnale

prin portile cetatii tale

catre ochii tai ce devin

din ce in ce mai umbrosi.

Portile sunt stramte

si modifica semnalul

dupa Deep Packet Inspection

deviindu-l cand am ochii inchisi

catre buze, care imi fura un sarut.

Imi zici ca sunt mare mester la cuvinte

desi tac, lasand scoicile sa tipe

si incep sa ma tem

cum stau cu capu-n poala ta

ca voi raci la el

de atata umezeala.

I’m lounging in the sunny tenderness

of Sicilian wine

under your slightly inclined head,

with your tresses breezing slightly

as if I’m sprawling in a cornfield

maize

with undone, loose silk

s(w)inging my eyebrows.

You’re rubbing my smooth skull

while radio-canada whispers

chansonettes, jazz and big band

and the stalking sun

tiptoes through the blinds

commenting without permission

in my existential journal.

I look up in your eyes

and it’s like

I take a giant shell to my ear

and the foamy waves spray me

with the smell of seaweed.

My big basketball

sends signals

through the gates of your fortress

toward your eyes which become

increasingly shadowy.

The gates are tight

and modify the signal

following Deep Packet Inspection

deviating it when I have my eyes closed

toward the lips, which steal a kiss from me.

You tell me that I’m a great word master

although I keep silent, letting the shells speak

and I begin to fear

as I lay my head on your lap

that I might catch a cold

from so much moisture.