Her and I on a wire with crows feet spread gripped in a murder
Of shedding feathers, drifting off watching passers
A boy walks around a bumper of punk band stickers on a blue Ford Escort
To open a door for a girl in a canary yellow dress
With a smile as big as the whole, she is waiting for his gesture
The mist of a memory echoes from her lips in a forgotten slip
The aperture of her aorta’s outlet lets out a wasp of appreciation
To tip the aroma to his nostrils like catnip
To know the action like a sunrise after staying up all night watching reruns
Ending and beginning mixed in a medley of what was coming to be
Before their eyes like playthings dangling for surprise
To touch like ballerina tip toes
Diving in like Caribbean cliffs on summer days of crystal clear waters
Plummeting in for perfect sand dollars spent on years washed
In sunshine, refracted light blinds a memory
In ticks and twinges of pieces shattered like a fallen mirror
Seeing in slivers of what she said on a Monday in December
Crack that light and fail to remember the shards that bled
Out into stale smells and slipping toes, her flying off and a re-opened nose
No comments:
Post a Comment