Enchantment
Blinking signs. Stars.
Cars are killer whales
in the ocean of the dark.
I draw breaths like inspiration,
crumpled thoughts, napkins,
unfinished concepts in my mind.
You can’t change the channel,
push some button –
get a smile instead of this
Technicolor attitude,
curled like tendrils of ivy.
I'm sunshine inkblots,
wooden cubed,
silk-interiored. Unbelievable.
You’re a doctor in your own right,
sterile-gloved, heart
still beating in your chest.
Isn’t this how love should be?
Fragile-winged, like
first-born fledglings in Spring,
simple, tragic,
and beautiful.
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