to tell the truth I am falling
for him off a cliff made of
crates. just sea drifting and
moonlighting the froth and foam hoping
to find any sign of like. like a
STOP sigh or a YIELD to the
authority and aristocracy sign.
sky drawing, sea singing. I want
it to last forever. when I am in his
kaleidoscope, light years away
star fishing. he is caught in a current.
an event that is supposed to change him
and cause his atoms to separate and
rebinds. a recreation of molecular makeup.
a fake out make out. and a very soft hand
drifting down my gully, lapping salty ships
on the shore, sloping in to my knees.
his eyes red like crushed peppers, a
blueberry tree growing out of his head.
I am sure it will all be too much for my mass
and the wind in my sails starts to crack.