Any way you read it.

Slipping into and out from occasionally
feeling something ain’t right
is it temporary?
or is the impermanence
I feel
here
permanently.

Trapped between the ice cubes and
malted milks
I drift off into Summer
she wears her silks

is it real or illusion?
do
we advance
to a fusion?

slipping into and out from
occasionally.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.