The Aquarian
He offers me tea
and chocolate wafers
a jug in one hand
a paper plate in the other
his bare chest
a milk-and-honey hue
The water he bears
has no shape or color
but takes on the form
of whatever it's in
a jar, a cup, a river
reflecting vibrant things
like birds, mountains, flowers
A style not his own
the print silk shirt
the blue jacket
with the velvet lapel
blends into the milieu
that he is in
So I shake my head
to his offer
of food and drink
knowing my Ariean fire
will never dance
with his water
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