+ America Walking -

A full year had elapsed

Since last we came to pass

Her whereabouts I possessed not a clue

Notably I took interest in the fact

That she now was working

At the venue whence first we had met

Those sandy, brown locks wavering

Accompanied by the most provocative lips America did see

Caused me to re-visualize assorted levels of elation

She was a walking religion

Yet fearfully she was in denial

Though judging by the way our eyes locked

Ultimately I sensed that still

Something was there…

+ Tourists -

Bad blood.
Yes, that's the substance
That appears to be touring amongst us
Stains of a silent vendetta
Howling against my cranium
Classically, such a rhythm dances
With a carelessly, continuous tune
Am I but an indefinite design
In this fearsome game?

+ Traffic Lights -

Discernment often resembles a fable

When translating the language composed by women

As tantalizing as these creatures may be

Various medleys of gestures so fallaciously are given

On certain occasions it appears that

One’s efforts have been green lit

When so suddenly red flags are discovered

Dancing amidst the clouds

Gradually the entire project

Grows to be eminently disheartening

Women, the puppeteers that they reflect,

Behave as if the universe

Is a vaginal duplication

Although society may deem that laughable

The results of such callousness

Quite strangely are familiar…