If the world is an oyster - I am its pearl.
Gathering layers of nacreous sheen
secreted abundantly by my local domain.
The world turns and so do I. Iridescent - my coat is a gather, a shifting glance
where angle glimmers with hope circling up my round body
as it appears to beam
Slippery my surface is for your touching.
We, you and I, began
as traveling particles
hurrying through a textured terrain, following,
too soon settled into inanimate state of ideal.
The likeness of ours is cultured,
replicated or stamped to fill other needs.
Other, are needs to appear elsewhere.
Wanting, far from the buffed surface, flavored if so but dimly lit.
The shells are gathered by anonymous hands.
Once heat set
we, you and I,
appear together on a string of events, sitting idly on a neck of a debutante.
Her solar plexus is burning
with anticipation of a predetermined
Buffering, the depression light struggles against day’s repair,
re-routing pathway of dispossessed to the shells
of newly devised acrylic seabeds,
sprinkled with rare earth