Music trembles as tuxedos twirl bridesmaids.
To want you is to think 3000 thoughts,
each one a marble scattered across tile.
Language exists in pure emotion.
Until released it soars to the heavens
the way a child stares on a street corner
releasing a balloon, sending a wish.
Eyelids open
my body calling for a café con leche.
I think of the Brazilian fields,
men plucking beans still green
the way I plucked the moonflower last night
to hold time to my heart.
This morning it is wilted.
Calves ache from dancing,
I think of all that is broken within us.
Fractures shoot stars through bones,
reminding us that we heal and forget our bruises.
Thoughts grow an English garden.
I wander down,
to see where the end will take me.
Can we communicate through the hedge?
I hope you too find the exit
and wait for me
so I can think about beginning again.
