A rest on the antihelix

I climbed the side of her face

and caressed an earlobe with my non-dominant hand,

the dominant grasped a few strands of hair and

hoisted my self into place, to a lounging space in her

antihelix

Ascended, I said, and I have her ear, kicked off the

shoes that brought me here and proceeded to say …

not a word.

Just listened to the swish from the sway,

to the wisps of air from vocalizations

sometimes nearly ululations

At which time, you might imagine, this little man

bridged the ear where he’d climbed, to speak a few

worthwhile words.

 

And say to hell with the rhyme.

 

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