I don’t share things usually. This is a definite anomaly. Guess I’m trying to branch out a bit. Wrote it in a bout of sleeplessness in early April.
There are beautiful
Miniature landscapes crafted
In the walls of my skull
Where caricatures
Of the people I know
Live where midday shadows
Are corned to nonexistence.
You stand with
A balloon tied to your wrist
Red, I believe.
Matches my
Rapidly pulsing aorta
As you bend in the breeze.
More and more
Balloons grasp at your fingertips
Colors so bright, colors so bright.
And slowly, one by one
Your digits ensnare
And I find myself plunging at naked air.
Dumbfounded I scramble
You can’t explain how
And your feet are lifted straight
Off of the frozen ground
And I slide on the ice
As you glide up to space
More and more
Balloons grasp at your fingertips
Colors so bright, colors so bright.
And slowly, one by one
Your digits ensnare
And I find myself plunging at naked air.
And as you crash the clouds, my love
As your head shames mountain peaks
And as you circumference the globe, my love
The oceans your canteens
The green fields soft on your breath
Listen for the troubadour
Whose enflamed heart
Looks skyward evermore.
