...you want elbows to poke
her ribs and point to the
initials you carved sloppily
in the oak in the farm bottoms.

and arms to lead her to that mesa
where the two of you can
become one and giddily appreciate
being muted by your smiles.

and too, you need eyes
to see her, as she sees you;
both begin the opalescent strumming
of your poetic heart-strings.

as words are heard by your ears,
measured by your mind
and delivered to joined palms
feverishly warm with tomorrows.

10/14/2005