someday, I said,
i want to meet you.
i want to find you in the middle of a crowded empty coffee shop sidewalk,
and write on your hands;
we’ll sit at a little table with french iron lacework
with our little cups of sophistication and knowledge,
discuss politics (yawn) philosophy (huh?), the meaning of life even.
and you’ll give me lollipops–
(lots of lollipops?– yes)
My tongue will change colors– fifty different colors!
I’ll speak rainbows for days
instead of goodbye,
and you’ll part from me with memories of blue trailing from your violet thoughts
while red and yellow trade places with green between your palms
as you squeeze orange through your fingers
(our thoughts are peculiar ribbons of indigo)