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Sufi Style<BR><BR>
<a href='delicious.php?PHPSESSID=95a8c7c376eb2ab95926d3f13a833523'>delicious</a><BR>
<a href='nutritious.php?PHPSESSID=95a8c7c376eb2ab95926d3f13a833523'>nutritious</a><BR>
<a href='archives.php?PHPSESSID=95a8c7c376eb2ab95926d3f13a833523'>archives</a><BR>i passed her this morning
<BR>
on a course of no particular destination
<BR>
just to keep the blood flowing
<BR>
but back to her
<BR>
i passed her, this girl
<BR>
her toes, glowing wildly
<BR>
not in any mystical sense
<BR>
no no, these were drenched in the soak of reality
<BR>
i kid you not, soaked, but in smoke
<BR>
smoke flowing from out her toes
<BR>
amidst five soft burgundy petals
<BR>
exposed bare to the cool morning air
<BR>
and then she was behind me
<BR>
existing just the same in her nicotine fix
<BR>
or maybe not at all
<BR>
it was too late to tell now
<BR>
to distinguish existence from lucid imagination
<BR>
a fallen angel or a seated soul?
<BR>
the birds sing just the same.</BODY>
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