Rods and Cones

The thing that he liked
The thing that likes him
The object floating suspended
above the ballroom
was simply shiny
most mosaic material
reverberating light to his rods and cones.

Light too comes from his phone
And his now blue face
Matches his blue balls
"that's just a legend!"
the x had protested
"the myth is, men, momentary
"as they are, forget themselves somewhere.'

The thing was still there
The thing that he liked
The thing that liked him
was still a thing
an issue of perhaps
magnetism, mayhem, malignant
tumors on the sides of dogs

Picking through slop with hogs
With other malignant men
He seemed different
but was in fact not
was similar but different
still staying slow the course
reverberating with the rods and cones

but since now how the rainbow is over
several waves have subsided
since then and that dark time
though its echoes still reverberate
though its cicatrice still slices open
wounds on people thought impenetrable
and losing.

Dancing through the streets
and reliving the times that weren't
the endless duo redivides and combines
Approaching the objective?
The man that i love?
The road block that fills the void?
The sarcoid.

On that true love I do avoid!

PDM