A Gemini morning, humid, Eastern heat-spilled impatience and placenta to the floor,
Happy birthday to you
A baby double minded, twice as sure of his kingship poured from his womb-like throne
Happy birthday to you
Onto polished bamboo floor, flat-rolled expanse from bedroom to corridor then veranda.
Happy birthday dear Gemini
Whose royalty slips past a princely generation, crown-less, buried beneath rice paddies?
Happy birthday to you
A squandering son, spendthrift and sensual, carried epicure’s pleasure palace to the abyss,
How old are you now?
Never the same, depleted, arrested at shore along middle class havens harboring mediocre
How old are you now?
Table wear and linen unrefined, delicacies grown bloated, mutational and cloying starchy
How old are you now, dear Gemini.
Sweet-salty in heavy-handed cookery, fraudulent design and mockery, a chef’s despair.
How old are you now?
Proud May’s retreat, your promises half-fulfilled pool like soaking wet wool slogging
For he’s a jolly good fellow
Footfall’s dawn soft pacing to a slipper shuffle, grey questioning the doubtful days.
For he’s a jolly good fellow
A heyday haunting lingers along fleshy palms, midriffs and necks, a puffy sight.
For he’s a jolly good fellow
Back-look now, mid-life, sandwiched between regret and hope–a dual mind–
That nobody can deny
Celebration calls a prince-of-the-day to candle-caked song once more.
Credit: Gemini on Pinterest
In the gaze of the other 