At sixty six, run out of
gimmicks, dreams
of colourful lipsticks. Embrace
some discourses. The bosom,
too big and beat
an old horse. Theatrics,
subconscious travel in terrain
beyond the taboos and stereotypes.
The symbols and images, not private,
stigmatize into tattoos, skin
deep, buried in brain circuitry,
since words begin,
hard to peel its colour
off. Other minds,
interpret the dream,
better than the dreamer,
keep dreaming, pout
your lips, for another
colourful life.

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