SWEET THING GONE SOUR

He is a spirit man, inhaling reality, exhaling dreams, holding his medicine close to his heart…but his charm oozes through his pores with the slightest exertion.

A magnet of magic, he attracts and repels, unaware of his power.

People lean in to his words, bathed gently in the sweet balm of his breath.

And why not?

He makes them feel the impossible is right there with them.

He soothes their psyches and excites their fingertips.

Dreams have more energy than the atomic bomb if properly detonated.   He tells me this.

He speaks to me in words dripping with poetry.

He dances instead of walks.

His hair is electric.

But I, like the others, buy deodorant for his charisma and insulating gel for his curls.

Too much of a good thing can kill you.

Copyright 2009

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