i’ve heard words say, “Eyes are
mirrors of a soul”
en cap sulated minor miseries
EXPLORATIONS in spaces
With traces of fizz . . . & FIRE
F. Scott loved Zelda they burned
one sordid flamin’ trail
never re-gretted nor forgetted . . .
Gatsby saw the lite in the fog pretended
to be a Blue Blood
pre-tended to swim sin bubbles
bloated on a sultry dream . . .
drank too many to float