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