Your green eyes are grapes.  I want to stomp them and
get drunk on you.  Let them slide down my throat,
taste what you've seen.  Intoxicate me.  Pretend

my sighs are seeds that feed off your fecund
flesh and penetrate me with your heady port.
Your green eyes are grapes I want to stomp.  And

when I say I want to eat you, I mean strained
through my brain and bowels until you have no
taste.  What you've seen intoxicates me.  Pretend

we go beyond the surface of our hands
and we can squish the bitterness through our toes.
Your green eyes are grapes.  I want them and

the rest of your fruit bowl face.  Understand
my compote cravings and let yourself go.
Taste what you've seen.  Intoxicate me, pretend

we will never see each other again.
I'm growing tired of the same tea and toast.
Your green eyes are grapes.  I want to stomp them and
taste what you've seen.  Intoxicate me.  Pretend.

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Copyright © 2005 by Calaveras Station and the CSUS English Department.