Bloom II

come in, fear not.

here, adrift in a petit bourgeoisie flower dream, you are. you be. 

stop. smell the flowers.

those petals, that scent, those colors.

feel the sumptuous perfume blooming from these spreading blades.

that's pleasure.

that's sex.

that's your wedding bouquet, or your funeral wreath

that's a rose. 

is a rose is a rose.

your grandmother's body lotion. 

that's your kitschy imagination.

a neon disco.

a bee's sight. 

in the midst of pollination ceremony.

an LSD-fueled rave party.

true love. 

oh, did you know that orchid is a Greek word for testicle?

try not to giggle next time when you see them in your neighbor's window.

do you smell decay, smoldering with the heavy narcotic aroma of lilacs?

it is indole.organic.

can you smell tar & feces? 

the sweetness and the rot.

and the geranium, remember?

a true alien, a "migrant native to the universe".

instead: we are the swiss. don't worry you will be assimilated on our balconies and our mountain huts 

without flowers

without sex appeal

we would all be trapped in a leafy world and we still would not be.