Can I develop your words like salt water between my empty lips?
I love to watch you roll your body like a timid wave against my shore.
Your laugh freckles me like early morning dew but
I am an open leaf mantra in the evening- rain down on me.
You can take your shelter under my shimmering canopy but
will you spread your wings?
Pull my fingertips through your fever dream- please don't wake up now.
Will you be the inky ribbon of my typewriter,
the hearth at the bottom of my stomach?
Red wine kind of Saturday night.
Can I trace the outline of your shadow against this golden sun fall?
Because you are a dripping brick side building- picturesque sort of thing.
Could you pull my oxygen around the sunlight?
Will you be the soul on my left side body?
Will you be my right side exhale?
Will you just come over?