Two forlorn souls were side by side on mattress,
a mutual gate between them,
with the iron welled lock of alienation,
and a keyhole,
with two rays of light, like the stature of a person
approaching from the stretch of distance
in either side.
in one transverse
treasure box.
And the gold
right there
with key and the keyhole penetrating to open.
Where the key and keyhole
plowing in each other hallow and protrusion,
erasing their genders,
their concavity and jut,
by exploring them,
by riding their brougham
in the ups and down of a craggy road,
thawing in a gold horizon
to become one,
to open the box.
