In Verse

You are a kiwi in winter.
A dry-clean only JCrew
sweater, a vaguely tangible oasis
in the middle of the desert.

You are like yellow pants,
a headstand; you move in circles
in the midst of a square dance.

You are a literary acrobat,
a bowl of ice cream
with a side of eggplant.

You are the twilight kiss
which eclipses past curfew;
you are the ruby shoes
for this Dorothy senselessly
searching for her heart in Oz.

You are the parachute bringing me
down to earth from a sky
of disenchanting stars.

You are poetry I have been inspired
to bookmark, highlight
and memorize, if only to capture
the beauty in your complexity
and the worlds in between
your lines.

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