One minute you’re a too long text.
And I, your cruel editor. And next,
you’re a seal on my skin’s page. An
age old cliché & then you ricochet
into something unique. Oblique,
you drive me mad (in circles) for
I’m brand new & smell of leather.
And then you’re a feather and it
tickles till it hurts! And you burst
me like a bubble, I’m in trouble,
you’re the worst! Still I want to, how
I want to watch you sleeping…
I’d be your bedside clock you wind up
nightly; I’d be your buzzer & the red
snooze button that you press on
in the morning. I’d be your toothbrush
& your foam & snazzy razor, or the
cool coat & your shawl, even if I’m
just a small thread. I’d let you get
ahead and fast. Instead of breakfast,
I’d let you have your cake. I’d be the
train you don’t run after, though you
always take. Besides all of the above,
I’d be your lift — if you catch my…