Staring at that gold <br />seam up her ass, <br />stitched on that fathomless <br />blue that takes my eyes <br />as deep as a lover— <br /> <br />I find my way <br />in that blue night <br />by such luminous constellations <br />and that of the shining <br />rivets on her back pockets. <br /> <br />Five decades, my eyes <br />have strained <br />to de-magnetize themselves, <br />but every time, a Columbus <br />rises up within me and tries again <br />to peer around the geometry-defying <br />horizon of that curve, <br />to a new world, <br /> <br />or through it, <br />to some infinite depth. <br /> <br />The voice of reason <br />simply has no case, <br />once the actual body <br />of desire bursts into the room <br />and everyone else inside me <br />stampedes to see her, <br /> <br />that dark, voluptuous, <br />illumined sky, and who knows, <br />perhaps the night sky itself <br />is really a great, jeaned woman?<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/10-blue-jeans-and-men-s-eyes/
