Twin Hills Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Twin Hills



Twin Hills

A poet is spy, KGB, CIA or MOSAD
so am I.

Paper is virtual and I use; pen in hand and in mind
In search of right to write look around
Permit it to come up.

Of the men, and women, animals and so on
Even roads and tires to asphalt and the curbs
Including the buildings, doors, windows, balconies,
Flowers, short and tall, and colours, all the leaves.

Everyone, everything, one of cars is a Ford:
“Twin Hills”.

I smile, feel sexy, wild brain turns nasty.

I now have new aim: “Drive, see driver, ”
She must have twin hills.

In my mind I make her and give her an image
Venus with two oceans, cloud-like golden hair
In the dusk they brush the sunset in the air.

Her body soft with curves...and her neck is silver
Twin Hills on her chest.

I sped, drove past, reached her and discovered.

We drove neck to neck
I turned right and saw her...


Fuzzy hair, parrot nose, I saw witch, a black cony hat.

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