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no more than a scent


by Juan Carlos Pareja


Art evades me persistently.
Tonight is no exception.

Outside, the bitter wind blows:
suddenly, an oddity comes to mind
a memory, a glance. 

A mid summer night
heavy and tainted
under the neon lights.

A foolish smile invites me in
come through the threshold of sin
she appears to whisper.

Her dark, silky hair
melts into the 
blanket of night. 

Her thighs exude weakness
and her eyes, her powerful eyes
kindly request a cease-fire
of rational thought.

Calmly we fly away,
into the night and through
the Pillars of creation.

Electrons and neutrons
and even the quirky quarks dance
to the rhythm of us.

Glorious nebulas guide us 
responding to my despotic 
and all-mighty snap. 

We travel, 
unblinking and uncontrolled
straight into Leonardo┬┤s 
immaculate hands.

Who receives us joyful
and victorious, 
holding the taste of immortality
on the tip of his tongue. 

All  that I am 
I owe to your mystery eyes,
I whisper to her. 

Suddenly this never ending
blanket that I call solitude
unfolds 
and I find myself again 
in this god forsaken place.

Yet somewhere in my mind 
Eternity hides, all of her.
Hidden from reality; 
no more than a scent.


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